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,1J 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND 


BY 

CHARLES    DICKENS 


NEW    YORK: 
PUBLISHED  BY  JOHN  BRADBURN, 

(successor   to   m.  doolady,) 

49  WALKER-STREET. 

1864. 


V2  3 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 

IN    FOUR    BOOKS. 


BOOK    THE    FIRST 

THE  CUP  AND  THE  LIP. 


CHAPTER  I. 

ON     THE     LOOK-OUT. 

In  these  times  of  ours,  though  concerning  the  exact 
year  there  is  no  need  to  be  precise,  a  boat  of  dirty  and 
disreputable  appearance,  with  two  figures  in  it,  floated 
on  the  Thames,  between  Southwark  bridge  which  is 
of  iron,  and  London  bridge  which  is  of  stone,  as  an 
autumn  evening  was  closing  in. 

The  figures  in  this  boat  were  those  of  a  strong  man 
with  ragged  grizzled  hair  and  a  sun-browned  face,  and 
a  dark  girl  of  nineteen  or  twenty,  sufficiently  like  him 
to  be  recognizable  as  his  daughter.  The  girl  rowed, 
pulling  a  pair  of  sculls  very  easily ;  the  man,  with  the 
rudder-lines  slack  in  his  hands,  and  his  hands  loose  in 
his  waistband,  kept  an  eager  look-out.  He  had  no 
net,  hook,  or  line,  and  he  could  not  be  a  fisherman ; 
his  boat  had  no  cushion  for  a  sitter,  no  paint,  no 
inscription,  no  appliance  beyond  a  rusty  boat-hook 


46592 * 


4  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

and  a  coil  of  rope,  and  he  could  not  be  a  waterman ; 
his  boat  was  too  crazy  and  too  small  to  take  in  cargo 
for  delivery,  and  he  could  not  be  a  lighterman  or 
river-carrier;  there  was  no  clew  to  what  he  looked 
for,  but  he  looked  for  something,  with  a  most  intent 
and  searching  gaze.  The  tide,  which  had  turned  an 
hour  before,  was  running  down,  and  his  eyes  watched 
every  little  race  and  eddy  in  its  broad  sweep,  as  the 
boat  made  slight  headway  against  it,  or  drove  stern 
foremost  before  it,  according  as  he  directed  his  daugh- 
ter by  a  movement  of  his  head.  She  watched  his  face 
as  earnestly  as  he  watched  the  river.  But,  in  the 
intensity  of  her  look  there  was  a  touch  of  dread  or 
horror. 

Allied  to  the  bottom  of  the  river  rather  than  the 
surface,  by  reason  of  the  slime  and  ooze  with  which  it 
was  covered,  and  its  sodden  state,  this  boat  and  the 
two  figures  in  it  obviously  were  doing  something  that 
they  often  did,  and  were  seeking  what  they  often 
sought.  Half  savage  as  the  man  showed,  with  no 
covering  on  his  matted  head,  with  his  brown  arms 
bare  to  between  the  elbow  and  the  shoulder,  with  the 
loose  knot  of  a  looser  kerchief  lying  low  on  his  bare 
breast  in  a  wilderness  of  beard  and  whisker,  with  such 
dress  as  he  wore  seeming  to  be  made  out  of  the  mud 
that  begrimed  his  boat,  still  there  was  business-like 
usage  in  his  steady  gaze.  So  with  every  lithe  action 
of  the  girl,  with  every  turn  of  her  wrist,  perhaps  most 
of  all  with  her  look  of  dread  or  horror;  they  were 
things  of  usage. 

"  Keep  her  out,  Lizzie.  Tide  runs  strong  here. 
Keep  her  well  afore  the  sweep  of  it." 


OUR  MUTUAL   FRIEND.  5 

Trusting  to  the  girl's  skill  and  making  no  use  of  the 
rudder,  he  eyed  the  coming  tide  with  an  absorbed 
attention.  So  the  girl  eyed  him.  But,  it  happened 
now,  that  a  slant  of  light  from  the  setting  sun  glanced 
into  the  bottom  of  the  boat,  and,  touching  a  rotten 
stain  there  which  bore  some  resemblance  to  the  out- 
line of  a  muffled  human  form,  colored  it  as  though 
with  diluted  blood.  This  caught  the  girl's  eyes,  and 
she  shivered. 

"  What  ails  you  ?"  said  the  man,  immediately 
aware  of  it,  though  so  intent  on  the  advancing 
waters  ;  "  I  see  nothing  afloat." 

The  red  light  was  gone,  the  shudder  was  gone,  and 
his  gaze,  which  had  come  back  to  the  boat  for  a  mo- 
ment, travelled  away  again.  Wheresoever  the  strong 
tide  met  with  an  impediment,  his  gaze  paused  for  an 
instant.  At  every  mooring-chain  and  rope,  at  every 
stationary  boat  or  barge  that  split  the  current  into  a 
broad  arrow-head,  at  the  offsets  from  the  piers  of 
Southwark  bridge,  at  the  paddles  of  the  river  steam- 
boats as  they  beat  the  filthy  water,  at  the  floating 
logs  of  timber  lashed  together  lying  off  certain 
wharves,  his  shining  eyes  darted  a  hungry  look.  Af- 
ter a  darkening  hour  or  so,  suddenly  the  rudder-lines 
tightened  in  his  hold,  and  he  steered  hard  towards  the 
Surrey  shore. 

Always  watching  his  face,  the  girl  instantly  an- 
swered to  the  action  in  her  sculling;  presently  the 
boat  swung  round,  quivered  as  from  a  sudden  jerk, 
and  the  upper  half  of  the  man  was  stretched  out  over 
the  stern. 

The  girl  pulled  the  hood  of  a  cloak  she  wore  over 


6  OUR   MUTUAL    FRIEND. 

her  head  and  over  her  face,  and,  looking  backward  so 
that  the  front  folds  of  this  hood  were  turned  down 
the  river,  kept  the  boat  in  that  direction  going  before 
the  tide.  Until  now,  the  boat  had  barely  held  her 
own,  and  had  hovered  about  one  spot ;  but  now,  the 
banks  changed  swiftly,  and  the  deepening  shadows 
and  the  kindling  lights  of  London  bridge  were 
passed,  and  the  tiers  of  shipping  lay  on  either 
hand. 

It  was  not  until  now  that  the  upper  half  of  the  man 
came  back  into  the  boat.  His  arms  were  wet  and 
dirty,  and  he  washed  them  over  the  side.  In  his  right 
hand  he  held  something,  and  he  washed  that  in  the 
river  too.  It  was  money.  He  chinked  it  once,  and 
he  blew  upon  it  once,  and  he  spat  upon  it  once — "  for 
luck,"  he  hoarsely  said — before  he  put  it  in  his  pocket. 

"  Lizzie !" 

The  girl  turned  her  face  towards  him  with  a  start, 
and  rowed  in  silence.  Her  face  was  very  pale.  He 
was  a  hook-nosed  man,  and  with  that  and  his  bright 
eyes  and  his  ruffled  head,  bore  a  certain  likeness  to  a 
roused  bird  of  prey. 

"  Take  that  thing  oiF  your  face." 

She  put  it  back. 

"  Here !  and  give  me  hold  of  the  sculls.  I'll  take 
the  rest  of  the  spell." 

"  No,  no,  father !  No !  I  can't  indeed.  Father  ! 
I  cannot  sit  so  near  it !" 

He  was  moving  towards  her  to  change  places,  but 
her  terrified  expostulation  stopped  him  and  he  re- 
sumed his  seat. 

"  What  hurt  can  it  do  you  ?" 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  7 

"  None,  none.     But  I  cannot  bear  it." 

"It's  my  belief  you  hate  the  sight  of  the  very 
river." 

"  I— I  do  not  like  it,  father." 

14  As  if  it  wasn't  your  living  !  As  if  it  wasn't  meat 
and  drink  to  you!" 

At  these  latter  words  the  girl  shivered  again,  and 
for  a  moment  paused  in  her  rowing,  seeming  to  turn 
deadly  faint.  It  escaped  his  attention,  for  he  was 
glancing  over  the  stern  at  something  the  boat  had  in 
tow. 

44  How  can  you  be  so  thankless  to  your  best  friend, 
Lizzie?  The  very  fire  that  warmed  you  when  you 
were  a  babby,  was  picked  out  of  the  river  alongside 
the  coal  barges.  The  very  basket  that  you  slept  in, 
the  tide  washed  ashore.  The  very  rockers  that  I  put 
it  upon  to  make  a  cradle  of  it,  I  cut  out  of  a  piece  of 
wood  that  drifted  from  some  ship  or  another." 

Lizzie  took  her  right  hand  from  the  scull  it  held, 
and  touched  her  lips  with  it,  and  for  a  moment  held  it 
out  lovingly  towards  him ;  then,  without  speaking,  she 
resumed  her  rowing,  as  another  boat  of  similar  appear- 
ance, though  in  rather  better  trim,  came  out  from  a 
dark  place  and  dropped  softly  alongside. 

44  In  luck  again,  Gaffer  ?"  said  a  man  with  a  squint- 
ing leer,  who  sculled  her,  and  who  was  alone.  4'I 
know'd  you  was  in  luck  again,  by  your  wake  as  you 
come  down." 

44  Ah  !"  replied  the  other,  dryly.  "  So  you're  out, 
are  you  ?" 

44  Yes,  pardner." 

There  was  now  a  tender  yellow  moonlight  on  the 


8  OUR   MUTUAL  FRIEND. 

river,  and  the  new-comer,  keeping  half  his  boat's 
length  astern  of  the  other  boat,  looked  hard  at  its 
track. 

"  I  says  to  myself,"  he  went  on,  "  directly  you  hove 
in  view,  yonder's  Gaffer,  and  in  luck  again,  by  George 
if  he  ain't !  Scull  it  is,  pardner — don't  fret  yourself— 
I  didn't  touch  him."  This  was  in  answer  to  a  quick 
impatient  movement  on  the  part  of  Gaffer :  the  speak- 
er at  the  same  time  unshipping  his  scull  on  that  side, 
and  laying  his  hand  on  the  gunwale  of  Gaffer's  boat 
and  holding  to  it. 

"  He's  had  touches  enough  not  to  want  no  more,  as 
well  as  I  make  him  out,  Gaffer !  Been  a  knocking 
about  with  a  pretty  many  tides,  ain't  he,  pardner? 
Such  is  my  out-of-luck  ways,  you  see  !  He  must  have 
passed  me  when  he  went  up  last  time,  for  I  was  on 
the  look-out  below  bridge  here.  I  a'most  think 
you're  like  the  wulturs,  pardner,  and  scent  'em  out." 

He  spoke  in  a  dropped  voice,  and  with  more  than 
one  glance  at  Lizzie  who  had  pulled  on  her  hood 
again.  Both  men  then  looked  with  a  weird  unholy 
interest  at  the  wake  of  Gaffer's  boat. 

"  Easy  does-  it,  betwixt  us.  Shall  I  take  him 
aboard,  pardner  ?" 

"  No,"  said  the  other,  in  so  surly  a  tone  that  the 
man,  after  a  blank  stare,  acknowledged  it  with  the 
retort : 

" — Arn't  been  eating  nothing  as  has  disagreed 
with  you,  have  you,  pardner  ?" 

"Why,  yes,  I  have,"  said  Gaffer.  "I  have  been 
swallowing  too  much  of  that  word,  pardner.  I  am  no 
pardner  of  yours." 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  9 

"  Since  when  was  you  no  pardner  of  mine,  Gaffer 
Ilexam,  Esquire  ?" 

"  Since  you  was  accused  of  robbing  a  man.  Ac 
cased  of  robbing  a  live  man !"  said  Gaffer,  with  great 
indignation. 

"  And  what  if  I  had  been  accused  of  robbing  a  dead 
man,  Gaffer  ?" 

"  You  couldn't  do  it." 

"  Couldn't  you,  Gaffer  ?» 

"  No.  Has  a  dead  man  any  use  for  money  ?  Is  it 
possible  for  a  dead  man  to  have  money  ?  What  world 
does  a  dead  man  belong  to  ?  'Tother  world.  What 
world  does  money  belong  to  ?  This  world.  How 
can  money  be  a  corpse's  ?  Can  a  corpse  own  it,  want 
it,  spend  it,  claim  it,  miss  it  ?  Don't  try  to  go  con- 
founding the  rights  and  wrongs  of  things  in  that  way. 
But  it's  worthy  of  the  sneaking  spirit  that  robs  a  live 
man." 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is—" 

"  No  you  won't.  IHI  tell  you  what  it  is.  You've 
got  off  with  a  short  time  of  it  for  putting  your  hand 
in  the  pocket  of  a  sailor,  a  live  sailor.  Make  the 
most  of  it  and  think  yourself  lucky,  but  don't  think 
after  that  to  come  over  me  with  your  pardners.  We 
have  worked  together  in  time  past,  but  we  work 
together  no  more  in  time  present  nor  yet  future.  Let 
go.     Cast  off!" 

"Gaffer!  If  you  think  to  get  rid  of  me  this 
way — " 

"  If  I  don't  get  rid  of  you  this  way,  I'll  try  another, 
and  chop  you  over  the  fingers  with  the  stretcher,  or 
take  a  pick  at  your  head  with  the  boat-hook.  Cast 
1* 


10  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

off!     Pull  you,  Lizzie.     Pull  home,  since  you  won't 
let  your  father  pull." 

Lizzie  shot  ahead,  and  the  other  boat  fell  astern. 
Lizzie's  father,  composing  himself  into  the  easy  atti- 
tude of  one  who  had  asserted  the  high  moralities  and 
taken  an  unassailable  position,  slowly  lighted  a  pipe, 
and  smoked,  and  took  a  survey  of  what  he  had  in  tow. 
What  he  had  in  tow  lunged  itself  at  him  sometimes  in 
an  awful  manner  when  the  boat  was  checked,  and 
sometimes  seemed  to  try  to  wrench  itself  away, 
though  for  the  most  part  it  followed  submissively.  A 
neophyte  might  have  fancied  that  the  ripples  passing 
over  it  were  dreadfully  like  faint  changes  of  expression 
on  a  sightless  face ;  but  Gaffer  was  no  neophyte,  and 
had  no  fancies. 


OUR  MUTUAL   FRIEND.  11 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  MAN   FROM   SOMEWHERE. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Veneering  were  bran-new  people,  in 
a  bran-new  house,  in  a  bran-new  quarter  of  London. 
Every  thing  about  the  Veneerings  was  spick  and  span 
new.  All  their  furniture  was  new,  all  their  friends 
were  new,  all  their  servants  were  new,  their  plate  was 
new,  their  carriage  was  new,  their  harness  was  new, 
their  horses  were  new,  their  pictures  were  new,  they 
themselves  were  new,  they  were  as  newly  married  as 
was  lawfully  compatible  with  their  having  a  bran-new 
baby,  and  if  they  had  set  up  a  great-grandfather,  he 
would  have  come  home  in  matting  from  the  Pantech- 
nicon, without  a  scratch  upon  him,  French  polished  to 
the  crown  of  his  head. 

For,  in  the  Veneering  establishment,  from  the  hall- 
chairs  with  the  new  coat  of  arms,  to  the  grand  piano- 
forte with  the  new  action,  and  up  stairs  again  to 
the  new  fire-escape,  all  things  were  in  a  state  of 
high  varnish  and  polish.  And  what  was  observable  in 
the  furniture  was  observable  in  the  Veneerings — the 
surface  smelt  a  little  too  much  of  the  workshop,  and 
was  a  trifle  sticky. 

There  was  an  innocent  piece  of  dinner-furniture  that 
went  upon  easy  castors,  and  was  kept  over  a  livery 
stable-yard  in  Duke-street,  Saint  James's,  when  not  in 


12  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

use,  to  whom  the  Veneerings  were  a  source  of  blind 
confusion.  The  name  of  this  article  was  Twemlow. 
Being  first  cousin  to  Lord  Snigsworth,  he  was  in  fre- 
quent requisition,  and  at  many  houses  might  be  said 
to  represent  the  dining-table  in  its  normal  state.  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Veneering,  for  example,  arranging  a  dinner, 
habitually  started  with  Twemlow,  and  then  put  leaves 
in  him,  or  added  guests  to  him.  Sometimes  the  table 
consisted  of  Twemlow  and  half  a  dozen  leaves ;  some- 
times of  Twemlow  and  a  dozen  leaves;  sometimes 
Twemlow  was  pulled  out  to  his  utmost  extent  of 
twenty  leaves.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Veneering,  on  occasions 
of  ceremony,  faced  each  other  in  the  centre  of  the 
board,  and  thus  the  parallel  still  held ;  for  it  always 
happened  that  the  more  Twemlow  was  pulled  out,  the 
further  he  found  himself  from  the  centre,  and  the 
nearer  to  the  side-board  at  the  one  end  of  the  room, 
or  the  window-curtains  at  the  other. 

But  it  was  not  this  which  steeped  the  feeble  soul  of 
Twemlow  in  confusion.  This  he  was  used  to,  and 
could  take  soundings  of.  The  abyss  to  which  he  could 
find  no  bottom,  and  from  which  started  forth  the  en- 
grossing and  ever-swelling  difficulty  of  his  life,  was 
the  insoluble  question  whether  he  was  Veneering's 
oldest  friend  or  newest  friend.  To  the  excogitation 
of  this  problem  the  harmless  gentleman  had  devoted 
many  anxious  hours,  both  in  his  lodgings  over  the 
livery  stable-yard,  and  in  the  cold  gloom,  favorable  to 
meditation,  of  St.  James's-square.  Thus:  Twemlow 
had  first  known  Veneering  at  his  club,  where  Veneer- 
ing then  knew  nobody  but  the  man  who  made  them 
known  to  one  another,  who  seemed  to  be  the  most  in- 


OUR   MUTUAL   FKIEND.  13 

timate  friend  he  had  in  the  world,  and  whom  he  had 
known  two  days — the  bond  of  union  between  their 
souls,  the  nefarious  conduct  of  the  committee  respect- 
ing the  cookery  of  a  fillet  of  veal,  having  been  acci- 
dentally cemented  at  that  date.  Immediately  upon 
this,  Twemlow  received  an  invitation  to  dine  with 
Veneering,  and  dined :  the  man  being  of  the  party. 
Immediately  upon  that,  Twemlow  received  an  invita- 
tion to  dine  with  the  man,  and  dined:  Veneering 
being  of  the  party.  At  the  man's  were  a  Member,  an 
Engineer,  a  Payer-off  of  the  National  Debt,  a  Poet,  a 
Grievance,  and  a  Public  Office,  who  all  seemed  to  be 
utter  strangers  to  Veneering.  And  yet  immediately 
after  that,  Twemlow  received  an  invitation  to  dine  at 
Veneering's,  expressly  to  meet  the  Member,  the  En- 
gineer, the  Payer-ofF  of  the  National  Debt,  the  Poet, 
the  Grievance,  and  the  Public  Office,  and,  dining,  dis- 
covered that  all  of  them  were  the  most  intimate  friends 
Veneering  had  in  the  world,  and  that  the  wives  of  all 
of  them  (who  were  all  there)  were  the  objects  of  Mrs. 
Veneering's  most  devoted  affection  and  tender  confi- 
dence. 

Thus  it  had  come  about,  that  Mr.  Twemlow  had  said 
to  himself  in  his  lodgings,  with  his  hand  to  his  forehead : 
u  I  must  not  think  of  this.  This  is  enough  to  soften 
any  man's  brain ;"  and  yet  was  always  thinking  of  it, 
and  could  never  form  a  conclusion. 

This  evening  the  Veneerings  give  a  banquet.  Eleven 
leaves  in  the  Twemlow ;  fourteen  in  company  all  told. 
Four  pigeon-breasted  retainers  in  plain  clothes  stand- 
ing in  line  in  the  hall.  A  fifth  retainer,  proceeding  up 
the  staircase  with  a  mournful  air,  as  who  should  say, 


14  OUR    MUTUAL    FRIEND. 

"  Here  is  another  wretched  creature  come  to  dinner ; 
such  is  life!"  announces,  " Mis-tress  Twemlow!" 

Mrs.  Veneering  welcomes  her  sweet  Mr.  Twemlow. 
Mr.  Veneering  welcomes  his  dear  Twemlow.  Mrs. 
Veneering  does  not  expect  that  Mr.  Twemlow  can  in 
nature  care  much  for  such  insipid  things  as  babies,  but 
so  old  a  friend  must  please  to  look  at  baby.  "  Ah  ! 
you  will  know  the  friend  of  your  family  better,  Tootle- 
ums,"  says  Mr.  Veneering,  nodding  emotionally  at 
that  new  article,  "when  you  begin  to  take  notice." 
He  then  begs  to  make  his  dear  Twemlow  known  to 
his  two  friends,  Mr.  Boots  and  Mr.  Brewer — and 
clearly  has  no  distinct  idea  which  is  which. 

But  now  a  fearful  circumstance  occurs. 

"  Mis-ter  and  Mis-sis  Podsnap !" 

"  My  dear,"  says  Mr.  Veneering  to  Mrs.  Veneering, 
with  an  air  of  much  friendly  interest,  while  the  door 
stands  open,  "the  Podsnaps." 

A  too,  too  smiling  large  man,  with  a  fatal  freshness 
on  him,  appearing  with  his  wife,  instantly  deserts  his 
wife  and  darts  at  Twemlow  with : 

"  How  do  you  do  ?  So  glad  to  know  you.  Charm- 
ing house  you  have  here.  I  hope  we  are  not  late. 
So  glad  of  this  opportunity,  I  am  sure !" 

When  the  first  shock  fell  upon  him,  Twemlow  twice 
skipped  back  in  his  neat  little  shoes  and  his  neat  little 
silk  stockings  of  a  by-gone  fashion,  as  if  impelled  to 
leap  over  a  sofa  behind  him ;  but  the  large  man  closed 
with  him  and  proved  too  strong. 

"  Let  me,"  says  the  large  man,  trying  to  attract  the 
attention  of  his  wife  in  the  distance,  "  have  the  pleas- 
ure of  presenting  Mrs.  Podsnap  to  her  host.     She  will 


OUE   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  15 

be,"  in  his  fatal  freshness  he  seems  to  find  perpetual 
verdure  and  eternal  youth  in  the  phrase,  "  she  will  be 
so  glad  of  the  opportunity,  I  am  sure." 

In  the  mean  time  Mrs.  Podsnap,  unable  to  originate 
a  mistake  on  her  own  account,  because  Mrs.  Veneering 
is  the  only  other  lady  there,  does  her  best  in  the  way 
of  handsomely  supporting  her  husband's,  by  looking 
towards  Mr.  Twemlow  with  a  plaintive  countenance, 
and  remarking  to  Mrs.  Veneering  in  a  feeling  manner, 
firstly,  that  she  fears  he  has  been  rather  bilious  of  late, 
and  secondly,  that  the  baby  is  already  very  like  him. 

It  is  questionable  whether  any  man  quite  relishes 
being  mistaken  for  any  other  man ;  but,  Mr.  Veneer- 
ing having  this  very  evening  set  up  the  shirt-front  of 
the  young  Antinous  (in  new  worked  cambric  just  come 
honie),  is  not  at  all  complimented  by  being  supposed 
to  be  Twemlow,  who  is  dry  and  weazen,  and  thirty- 
five  years  older.  Mrs.  Veneering  equally  resents  the 
imputation  of  being  the  wife  of  Twemlow.  As  to 
Twemlow,  he  is  so  sensible  of  being  a  much  better 
bred  man  than  Veneering,  that  he  considers  the  large 
man  an  offensive  ass. 

In  this  complicated  dilemma,  Mr.  Veneering  ap- 
proaches the  large  man  with  extended  hand,  and  smil- 
ingly assures  that  incorrigible  personage  that  he  is 
delighted  to  see  him,  who  in  his  fatal  freshness  instantly 
replies : 

"  Thank  you.  I  am  ashamed  to  say  that  I  cannot 
at  this  moment  recall  where  we  met,  but  I  am  so  glad 
of  this  opportunity,  I  am  sure !" 

Then  pouncing  upon  Twemlow,  who  holds  back 
with  all  his  feeble  might,  he  is  haling  him  off  to  pre- 


16  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

sent  him,  as  Veneering,  to  Mrs.  Podsnap,  when  the 
arrival  of  more  guests  unravels  the  mistake.  Where 
upon,  having  reshaken  hands  with  Veneering  as  Ve- 
neering, hereshakes  hands  with  Twemlow  as  Twemlow, 
and  winds  it  all  up  to  his  own  perfect  satisfaction  by- 
saying  to  the  last-named,  "  Ridiculous  opportunity — 
but  so  glad  of  it,  I  am  sure !" 

Now,  Twemlow  having  undergone  this  terrific  ex- 
perience, having  likewise  noted  the  fusion  of  Boots  in 
Brewer  and  Brewer  in  Boots,  and  having  further  ob- 
served that  of  the  remaining  seven  guests  four  discreet 
characters  enter  with  wandering  eyes  and  wholly  de- 
cline to  commit  themselves  as  to  which  is  Veneering, 
until  Veneering  has  them  in  his  grasp;  Twemlow 
having  profited  by  these  studies,  finds  his  brain  whole- 
somely hardening  as  he  approaches  the  conclusion  that 
he  really  is  Veneering's  oldest  friend,  when  his  brain 
softens  again  and  all  is  lost,  through  his  eyes  encoun- 
tering Veneering  and  the  large  man  linked  together  as 
twin  brothers  in  the  back  drawing-room  near  the  con- 
servatory door,  and  through  his  ears  informing  him  in 
the  tones  of  Mrs.  Veneering  that  the  same  large  man 
is  to  be  baby's  godfather. 

"  Dinner  is  on  the  table !" 

Thus  the  melancholy  retainer,  as  who  should  say, 
"  Come  down  and  be  poisoned,  ye  unhappy  children 
of  men !" 

Twemlow,  having  no  lady  assigned  him,  goes  down 
in  the  rear,  with  his  hand  to  his  forehead.  Boots  and 
Brewer,  thinking  him  indisposed,  whisper,  "  Man  faint. 
Had  no  lunch."  But  he  is  only  stunned  by  the  un- 
vanquishable  difficulty  of  his  existence. 


OUR   MUTUAL   FEIEND.  17 

Revived  by  soup,  Twemlow  discourses  mildly  of 
the  Court  Circular  with  Boots  and  Brewer.  Is  ap- 
pealed to,  at  the  fish  stage  of  the  banquet,  by  Veneer- 
ing, on  the  disputed  question  whether  his  cousin  Lord 
Snigsworth  is  in  or  out  of  town  ?  Gives  it  that  his 
cousin  is  out  of  town.  "  At  Snigsworthy  Park  ?"  Ve- 
neering inquires.  "At  Snigsworthy,"  Twemlow  re- 
joins. Boots  and  Brewer  regard  this  as  a  man  to  be 
cultivated ;  and  Veneering  is  clear  that  he  is  a  remu- 
nerative article.  Meantime  the  retainer  goes  round, 
like  a  gloomy  Analytical  Chemist :  always  seeming  to 
say,  after  "Chablis,  Sir?"— "You  wouldn't  if  you 
knew  what  it's  made  of." 

The  great  looking-glass  above  the  side-board  reflects 
the  table  and  the  company.  Reflects  the  new  Veneer- 
ing crest,  in  gold  and  eke  in  silver,  frosted  and  also 
thawed,  a  camel  of  all  work.  The  Herald's  College 
found  out  a  Crusading  ancestor  for  Veneering  who 
bore  a  camel  on  his  shield  (or  might  have  done  it  if  he 
had  thought  of  it),  and  a  caravan  of  camels  take  charge 
of  the  fruits,  and  flowers,  and  candles,  and  kneel  down 
to  be  loaded  with  the  salt.  Reflects  Veneering :  forty, 
wavy-haired,  dark,  tending  to  corpulence,  sly,  mys- 
terious, filmy — a  kind  of  sufficiently  well-looking  veiled 
prophet,  not  prophesying.  Reflects  Mrs.  Veneering  : 
fair,  aquiline-nosed  and  fingered,  not  so  much  light 
hair  as  she  might  have,  gorgeous  in  raiment  and  jewels, 
enthusiastic,  propitiatory,  conscious  that  a  corner  of 
her  husband's  veil  is  over  herself.  Reflects  Podsnap  : 
prosperously  feeding,  two  little  light-colored  wiry 
wings,  one  on  either  side  of  his  else  bald  head,  looking 
as  like  his  hair-brushes  as  his  hair,  dissolving  view  of 


18  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

red  beads  on  his  forehead,  large  allowance  of  crumpled 
shirt-collar  up  behind.  Reflects  Mrs.  Podsnap:  fine- 
woman  for  Professor  Owen,  quantity  of  bone,  neck 
and  nostrils  like  a  rocking-horse,  hard  features,  majes- 
tic head-dress,  in  which  Podsnap  has  hung  golden 
offerings.  Reflects  Twemlow :  gray,  dry,  polite,  sus- 
ceptible to  east  wind,  First-Gentleman-in-Europe  collar 
and  cravat,  cheeks  drawn  in  as  if  he  had  made  a  great 
effort  to  retire  into  himself  some  years  ago,  and  had 
got  so  far  and  had  never  got  any  further.  Reflects 
mature  young  lady  :  raven  locks,  and  complexion  that 
lights  up  well  when  well  powdered,  as  it  is,  carrying 
on  considerably  in  the  captivation  of  mature  young 
gentleman ;  with  too  much  nose  in  his  face,  too  much 
ginger  in  his  whiskers,  too  much  torso  in  his  waistcoat, 
too  much  sparkle  in  his  studs,  his  eyes,  his  buttons, 
his  talk,  and  his  teeth.  Reflects  charming  old  Lady 
Tippins,  on  Veneering's  right :  with  an  immense  ob- 
tuse drab  oblong  face,  like  a  face  in  a  table-spoon,  and 
a  dyed  Long  Walk  up  to  the  top  of  her  head,  as  a 
convenient  public  approach  to  the  bunch  of  false  hair 
behind,  pleased  to  patronize  Mrs.  Veneering  opposite, 
who  is  pleased  to  be  patronized.  Reflects  a  certain 
"  Mortimer,"  another  of  Veneering's  oldest  friends ; 
who  never  was  in  the  house  before,  and  appears  not 
to  want  to  come  again,  who  sits  disconsolate  on  Mrs. 
Veneering's  left,  and  who  was  inveigled  by  Lady 
Tippins  (a  friend  of  his  boyhood)  to  come  to  these 
people's  and  talk,  and  who  won't  talk.  Reflects  Eu- 
gene, friend  of  Mortimer ;  buried  alive  in  the  back  of 
his  chair,  behind  a  shoulder — with  a  powder-epaulet 
on  it — of  the  mature  young  lady,  and  gloomily  resort- 


OUR   MUTUAL   FEIEND.  19 

ing  to  the  Champagne  chalice  whenever  proffered  by 
the  Analytical  Chemist.  Lastly,  the  looking-glass 
reflects  Boots  and  Brewer,  and  two  other  stuffed 
Buffers  interposed  between  the  rest  of  the  company 
and  possible  accidents. 

The  Veneering  dinners  are  excellent  dinners — or 
new  people  wouldn't  come — and  all  goes  well.  Nota- 
bly, Lady  Tippins  has  made  a  series  of  experiments  on 
her  digestive  functions,  so  extremely  complicated  and 
daring,  that  if  they  could  be  published  with  their  re- 
sults it  might  benefit  the  human  race.  Having  taken 
in  provisions  from  all  parts  of  the  world,  this  hardy 
old  cruiser  has  last  touched  at  the  North  Pole,  when, 
as  the  ice-plates  are  being  removed,  the  following 
words  fall  from  her : 

"  I  assure  you,  my  dear  Veneering — " 

(Poor  Twemlow's  hand  approaches  his  forehead,  for 
it  would  seem  now  that  Lady  Tippins  is  going  to  be 
the  oldest  friend.) 

"  I  assure  you,  my  dear  Veneering,  that  it  is  the 
oddest  affair !  Like  the  advertising  people,  I  don't 
ask  you  to  trust  me  without  offering  a  respectable  ref- 
erence. Mortimer  there,  is  my  reference,  and  knowrs 
all  about  it." 

Mortimer  raises  his  drooping  eyelids,  and  slightly 
opens  his  mouth.  But  a  faint  smile,  expressive  of 
"  What's  the  use !"  passes  over  his  face,  and  he  drops 
his  eyelids  and  shuts  his  mouth. 

"  Now,  Mortimer,"  says  Lady  Tippins,  rapping  the 
sticks  of  her  closed  green  fan  upon  the  knuckles  of  her 
left  hand,  which  is  particularly  rich  in  knuckles,  "  I 


20  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

insist  upon  your  telling  all  that  is  to  be  told  about  the 
man  from  Jamaica." 

"  Give  you  my  honor  I  never  heard  of  any  man  from 
Jamaica,  except  the  man  who  was  a  brother,"  replies 
Mortimer. 

"  Tobago,  then." 

"  Nor  yet  from  Tobago." 

"  Except,"  Eugene  strikes  in :  so  unexpectedly  that 
the  mature  young  lady,  who  has  forgotten  all  about 
him,  with  a  start  takes  the  epaulet  out  of  his  way ; 
"  except  our  friend  who  long  lived  on  rice-pudding 
and  isinglass,  till  at  length  to  his  something  or  other, 
his  physician  said  something  else,  and  a  leg  of  mutton 
somehow  ended  in  daygo." 

A  reviving  impression  goes  round  the  table  that 
Eugene  is  coming  out.  An  unfulfilled  impression,  for 
he  goes  in  again. 

"  Now,  my  dear  Mrs.  Veneering,"  quoth  Lady  Tip- 
pins,  "  I  appeal  to  you  whether  this  is  not  the  basest 
conduct  ever  known  in  this  world  ?  I  carry  my  lovers 
about,  two  or  three  at  a  time,  on  condition  that  they 
are  very  obedient  and  devoted ;  and  here  is  my  old 
lover-in-chief,  the  head  of  all  my  slaves,  throwing  oft 
his  allegiance  before  company.  And  here  is  another 
of  my  lovers,  a  rough  Cymon  at  present  certainly,  but  of 
whom  I  had  most  hopeful  expectations  as  to  his  turn- 
ing out  well  in  course  of  time,  pretending  that  he  can't 
remember  his  nursery  rhymes !  On  purpose  to  annoy 
me,  for  he  knows  how  I  dote  upon  them !" 

A  ghastly  little  fiction  concerning  her  lovers  is  Lady 
Tippins's  point.  She  is  always  attended  by  a  lover  or 
two,  and  she  keeps  a  little  list  of  her  lovers,  and  she  is 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  21 

always  booking  a  new  lover,  or  striking  out  an  old 
lover,  or  putting  a  lover  in  her  black  list,  or  promot- 
ing a  lover  to  her  blue  list,  or  adding  up  her  lovers, 
or  otherwise  posting  her  book.  Mrs.  Veneering  is 
charmed  by  the  humor,  and  so  is  Veneering.  Per- 
haps it  is  enhanced  by  a  certain  yellow  play  in  Lady 
Tippins's  throat,  like  the  legs  of  scratching  poultry. 

"  I  banish  the  false  wretch  from  this  moment,  and 
I  strike  him  out  of  my  Cupidon  (my  name  for  my 
ledger,  my  dear,)  this  very  night.  But  I  am  resolved 
to  have  the  account  of  the  man  from  Somewhere,  and 
I  beg  you  to  elicit  it  for  me,  my  love,"  to  Mrs.  Ve- 
neering, "  as  I  have  lost  my  own  influence.  Oh,  you 
perjured  man!"  This  to  Mortimer,  with  a  rattle  of 
her  fan. 

"  We  are  all  very  much  interested  in  the  man  from 
Somewhere,"  Veneering  observes. 

Then  the  four  Buffers  taking  heart  of  grace,  all  four 
at  once,  say : 

"  Deeply  interested !" 

"  Quite  excited !" 

"  Dramatic !" 

"  Man  from  Nowhere,  perhaps !" 

And  then  Mrs.  Veneering — for  Lady  Tippins's  win- 
ning wiles  are  contagious — folds  her  hands  in  the  man- 
ner of  a  supplicating  child,  turns  to  her  left  neighbor, 
and  says,  "  Tease  !  Pay !  Man  from  Tumwhere !" 
At  which  the  four  Buffers,  again  mysteriously  moved 
all  four  at  once,  exclaim,  "  You  can't  resist !" 

"  Upon  my  life,"  says  Mortimer  languidly,  "  I  find 
it  immensely  embarrassing  to  have  the  eyes  of  Europe 
upon  me  to  this  extent,  and  my  only  consolation  is 


22  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

that  you  will  all  of  you  execrate  Lady  Tippins  in  your 
secret  hearts  when  you  find,  as  you  inevitably  will, 
the  man  from  Somewhere  a  bore.  Sorry  to  destroy 
romance  by  fixing  him  with  a  local  habitation,  but  he 
comes  from  the  place,  the  name  of  which  escapes  me, 
but  will  suggest  itself  to  everybody  else  here,  where 
they  make  the  wine." 

Eugene  suggests  "  Day  and  Martin's." 

"  No,  not  that  place,"  returns  the  unmoved  Morti- 
mer, "  that's  where  they  make  the  Port.  My  man 
comes  from  the  country  where  they  make  the  Cape 
Wine.  But  look  here,  old  fellow ;  it's  not  at  all  sta- 
tistical and  it's  rather  odd." 

It  is  always  noticeable  at  the  table  of  the  Veneer- 
ings,  that  no  man  troubles  himself  much  about  the 
Veneerings  themselves,  and  that  any  one  who  has  any 
thing  to  tell,  generally  tells  it  to  anybody  else  in 
preference. 

"  The  man,"  Mortimer  goes  on,  addressing  Eugene, 
"  whose  name  is  Harmon,  was  only  son  of  a  tremen- 
dous old  rascal  who  made  his  money  by  Dust." 

"  Red  velveteens  and  a  bell  ?"  the  gloomy  Eugene 
inquires. 

"  And  a  ladder  and  basket  if  you  like.  By  which 
means,  or  by  others,  he  grew  rich  as  a  Dust  Con- 
tractor, and  lived  in  a  hollow  in  a  hilly  country  entire- 
y  composed  of  Dust.  On  his  own  small  estate  the 
growling  old  vagabond  threw  up  his  own  mountain 
range,  like  an  old  volcano,  and  its  geological  formation 
was  Dust.  Coal-dust,  vegetable-dust,  bone-dust, 
crockery-dust,  rough  dust  and  dust  sifted — all  manner 
of  Dust." 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  23 

A  passing  remembrance  of  Mrs.  Veneering,  here  in- 
duces Mortimer  to  address  his  next  half-dozen  words 
to  her;  after  which  he  wanders  away  again,  tries 
Twemlow  and  finds  he  doesn't  answer,  ultimately 
takes  up  with  the  Buffers  who  receive  him  enthusias- 
tically. 

"  The  moral  being — I  believe  that's  the  right  ex- 
pression— of  this  exemplary  person,  derived  its  high- 
est gratification  from  anathematizing  his  nearest  rela- 
tions and  turning  them  out  of  doors.  Having  begun 
(as  was  natural)  by  rendering  these  attentions  to  the 
wife  of  his  bosom,  he  next  found  himself  at  leisure  to  be- 
stow a  similar  recognition  on  the  claims  of  his  daugh- 
ter. He  chose  a  husband  for  her,  entirely  to  his  own 
satisfaction  and  not  in  the  least  to  hers,  and  proceeded 
to  settle  upon  her,  as  her  marriage  portion,  I  don't 
know  how  much  Dust,  but  something  immense.  At 
this  stage  of  the  affair  the  poor  girl  respectfully  inti- 
mated that  she  was  secretly  engaged  to  that  popular 
character  whom  the  novelists  and  versifiers  call  An- 
other, and  that  such  a  marriage  would  make  Dust  of 
her  heart  and  Dust  of  her  life — in  short,  would  set  her 
up,  on  a  very  extensive  scale,  in  her  father's  business. 
Immediately,  the  venerable  parent — on  a  cold  winter's 
night,  it  is  said — anathematized  and  turned  her  out." 

Here,  the  Analytical  Chemist  (who  has  evidently 
formed  a  very  low  opinion  of  Mortimer's  story)  con- 
cedes a  little  claret  to  the  Buffers,  who,  again  myste- 
riously moved  all  four  at  once,  screw  it  slowly  into 
themselves  with  a  peculiar  twist  of  enjoyment,  as  they 
cry  in  chorus,  "  Pray  go  on." 

"The  pecuniary  resources  of  Another  were,  as  they 


24  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

usually  are,  of  a  very  limited  nature.  I  believe  I  am 
not  using  too  strong  an  expression  when  I  say  that 
Another  was  very  hard  up.  However,  he  married  the 
young  lady,  and  they  lived  in  an  humble  dwelling, 
probably  possessing  a  porch  ornamented  with  honey- 
suckle and  woodbine  twining,  until  she  died.  I  must 
refer  you  to  the  Registrar  of  the  District  in  which  the 
humble  dwelling  was  situated,  for  the  certified  cause 
of  death;  but  early  sorrow  and  anxiety  may  have  had 
to  do  with  it,  though  they  may  not  appear  in  the  ruled 
pages  and  printed  forms.  Indisputably  this  was  the 
case  with  Another,  for  he  was  so  cut  up  by  the  loss 
of  his  young  wife  that  if  he  outlived  her  a  year  it  was 
as  much  as  he  did." 

There  is  that  in  the  indolent  Mortimer,  which  seems 
to  hint  that  if  good  society  might  on  any  account 
allow  itself  to  be  impressible,  he,  one  of  good  society, 
might  have  the  weakness  to  be  impressed  by  what  he 
here  relates.  It  is  hidden  with  great  pains,  but  it  is 
in  him.  The  gloomy  Eugene  too,  is  not  without  some 
kindred  touch ;  for  when  that  appalling  Lady  Tippius 
declares  that  if  Another  had  survived,  he  should  have 
gone  down  at  the  head  of  her  list  of  lovers — and  also 
when  the  mature  young  lady  shrugs  her  epaulets,  and 
laughs  at  some  private  and  confidential  comment  from 
the  mature  young  gentleman — his  gloom  deepens  to 
that  degree  that  he  trifles  quite  ferociously  with  his 
dessert-knife. 

Mortimer  proceeds. 

"  We  must  now  return,  as  the  novelists  say,  and  as 
we  all  wTish  they  wouldn't,  to  the  man  from  Some- 
where.    Being  a  boy  of  fourteen,  cheaply  educated  at 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  25 

Brussels  when  his  sister's  expulsion  befell,  it  was  some 
little  time  before  he  heard  of  it — probably  from  her- 
self" for  the  mother  was  dead  ;  but  that  I  don't  know. 
Instantly,  he  absconded,  and  came  over  here.  He 
must  have  been  a  boy  of  spirit  and  resource  to  get 
here  on  a  stopped  allowance  of  five  sous  a  week;  but 
he  did  it  somehow,  and  he  burst  in  on  his  father, 
and  pleaded  his  sister's  cause.  Venerable  parent 
promptly  resorts  to  anathematization,  and  turns  him 
out  of  doors.  Shocked  and  terrified  boy  takes  flight, 
seeks  his  fortune,  gets  aboard  ship,  ultimately  turns  up 
on  dry  land  among  the  Cape  wine :  a  small  proprietor, 
farmer,  grower — whatever  you  like  to  call  it.'' 

At  this  juncture,  shuffling  is  heard  in  the  hall,  and 
tapping  is  heard  at  the  dining-room.  door.  Analytical 
Chemist  goes  to  the  door,  confers  angrily  with  unseen 
tapper,  appears  to  become  mollified  by  descrying  rea- 
son in  the  tapping,  and  goes  out. 

"  So  he  was  discovered,  only  the  other  day,  after 
having  almost  doubled  his  age ;  that  is  to  say,  after 
having  expatriated  about  fourteen  years." 

A  Buffer,  suddenly  astounding  the  other  three,  by 
detaching  himself,  and  asserting  individuality,  inquires, 
"  How  discovered,  and  why  ?" 

"  Ah !  To  be  sure.  Thank  you  for  reminding  me. 
Venerable  parent  dies." 

The  same   Buffer,   emboldened  by   success,  says 
"When?" 

"  The  other  day.     Ten  or  twelve  months  ago." 

The  same  Buffer  inquires  with  smartness,  "  What 
of?"      But    herein  perishes  a  melancholy  example; 
being  regarded  by  the  three  other  Buffers  with  a 
2 


26  OUR  MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

stony  stare,  and  attracting  no  further  attention  from 
any  mortal. 

"  Venerable  parent,"  Mortimer  repeats  with  a  pass- 
ing remembrance  that  there  is  a  Veneering  at  table, 
and  for  the  first  time  addressing  him — "  dies." 

The  gratified  Veneering  repeats,  gravely,  "  dies ;" 
and  folds  his  arms,  and  composes  his  brow  to  hear  it 
out  in  a  judicial  manner,  when  he  finds  himself  again 
deserted  in  the  bleak  world. 

"  His  will  is  found,"  says  Mortimer,  catching  Mrs. 
Podsnap's  rocking-horse's  eye.  "  It  is  dated  very  soon 
after  the  son's  flight.  It  leaves  the  lowest  of  the  range 
of  dust-mountains,  with  some  sort  of  a  dwelling-house 
at  its  foot,  to  an  old  servant  who  is  sole  executor, 
and  all  the  rest  of  the  property — which  is  very  consid- 
erable— to  the  son.  He  directs  himself  to  be  buried 
with  certain  eccentric  ceremonies  and  precautions 
against  his  coming  to  life,  with  which  I  need  not  bore 
you,  and  that's  all — except—"  and  this  ends  the  story. 

The  Analytical  Chemist  returning,  everybody  looks 
at  him.  Not  because  anybody  wants  to  see  him,  but 
because  of  that  subtle  influence  in  nature  which  impels 
humanity  to  embrace  the  slightest  opportunity  of  look- 
ing at  any  thing  rather  than  the  person  who  address- 
es it. 

"  — Except  that  the  son's  inheriting  is  made  condi- 
tional on  his  marrying  a  girl,  who  at  the  date  of  the 
will  was  a  child  of  four  years  old  or  so,  and  who  is 
now  a  marriageable  young  woman.  Advertisement 
and  inquiry  discovered  the  son  in  a  man  from  Some- 
where, and  at  the  present  moment  he  is  on  his  way  home 
from  there — no  doubt,  in  a  state  of  great  astonishment 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND.  27 

— to  succeed  to  a  very  large  fortune,  and  to  take  a 
wife." 

Mrs.  Podsnap  inquires  whether  the  young  person  is 
a  person  of  personal  charms  ?  Mortimer  is  unable  to 
report. 

Mr.  Podsnap  inquires  what  would  become  of  the 
very  large  fortune,  in  the  event  of  the  marriage  con- 
dition not  being  fulfilled  ?  Mortimer  replies,  that  by 
special  testamentary  clause  it  would  then  go  to  the 
old  servant  above  mentioned,  passing  over  and  exclud- 
ing the  son ;  also,  that  if  that  son  had  not  been  living, 
the  same  old  servant  would  have  been  sole  residuary 
legatee. 

Mrs.  Veneering  has  just  succeeded  in  waking  Lady 
Tippins  from  a  snore,  by  dexterously  shunting  a  train 
of  plates  and  dishes  at  her  knuckles  across  the  table ; 
when  everybody  but  Mortimer  himself  becomes  aware 
that  the  Analytical  Chemist  is,  in  a  ghostly  manner, 
offering  him  a  folded  paper.  Curiosity  detains  Mrs. 
Veneering  a  few  moments. 

Mortimer,  in  spite  of  all  the  arts  of  the  chemist, 
placidly  refreshes  himself  with  a  glass  of  Madeira,  and 
remains  unconscious  of  the  document  which  engrosses 
the  general  attention,  until  Lady  Tippins  (who  has  a 
habit  of  waking  totally  insensible),  having  remembered 
where  she  is,  and  recovered  a  perception  of  surround- 
ing objects,  says:  "Falser  man  than  Don  Juan  ;  why 
don't  you  take  the  note  from  the  Commendatore  ?" 
upon  which  the  chemist  advances  it  under  the  nose  of 
Mortimer,  who  looks  round  at  him,  and  says : 

"What's  this?" 

Analytical  Chemist  bends  and  whispers. 


28  OUR   MUTUAL   FKIEND. 

"  Who  ?"  says  Mortimer. 

Analytical  Chemist  again  bends  and  whispers. 

Mortimer  stares  at  him  and  unfolds  the  paper. 
Reads  it,  reads  it  twice,  turns  it  over  to  look  at  the 
blank  outside,  reads  it  a  third  time. 

"  This  arrives  in  an  extraordinarily  opportune  man- 
ner," says  Mortimer  then,  looking  with  an  altered  face 
round  the  table :  "  this  is  the  conclusion  of  the  story 
of  the  identical  man." 

"  Already  married  ?"  one  guesses. 

"Delines  to  marry?"  another  guesses. 

"  Codicil  among  the  dust  ?"  another  guesses. 

"  Why  no,"  says  Mortimer ;  "  remarkable  thing, 
you  are  all  wrong.  The  story  is  completer  and  rather 
more  exciting  than  I  supposed.     Man's  drowned." 


CHAPTER    III. 

ANOTHER    MAN. 

As  the  disappearing  skirts  of  the  ladies  ascended 
the  Veneering  staircase,  Mortimer,  following  them 
forth  from  the  dining-room,  turned  into  a  back  library 
of  bran-new  books,  in  bran-new  binding  liberally  gild- 
ed, and  requested  to  see  the  messenger  who  had 
brought  the  paper.  He  was  a  boy  of  about  fifteen. 
Mortimer  looked  at  the  boy,  and  the  boy  looked  at 
the  bran-new  pilgrims  on  the  wall,  going  to  Canter- 
bury in  more  gold  frame  than  procession,  and  more 
carving  than  country. 

"  Whose  writing  is  this  ?" 

"  Mine,  sir." 

"  Who  told  you  to  write  it  ?" 

"  My  father,  Jesse  Hexam." 

"  Is  it  he  who  found  the  body  ?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  What  is  your  father  ?" 

The  boy  hesitated,  looked  reproachfully  at  the  pil- 
grims as  if  they  had  involved  him  in  a  little  difficulty, 
then  said,  folding  a  plait  in  the  right  leg  of  his  trow- 
sers,  "  He  gets  his  living  alongshore." 

"Is  it  far?" 

"Is  which  far?"  asked  the  boy,  upon  his  guard, 
and  again  upon  the  road  to  Canterbury. 


30  OUR  MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

"  To  your  father's  ?" 

"  It's  a  goodish  stretch,  sir.  I  came  up  in  a  cab, 
and  the  cab's  waiting  to  be  paid.  We  could  go  back 
in  it  before  you  paid  it,  if  you  liked.  I  went  first  to 
your  office,  according  to  the  direction  of  the  papers 
found  in  the  pockets,  and  there  I  see  nobody  but  a 
chap  of  about  my  age,  who  sent  me  on  here." 

There  was  a  curious  mixture  in  the  boy,  of  uncom- 
pleted savagery,  and  uncompleted  civilization.  His 
voice  was  hoarse  and  coarse,  and  his  face  was  coarse, 
and  his  stunted  figure  was  coarse ;  but  he  was  cleaner 
than  other  boys  of  his  type ;  and  his  writing,  though 
large  and  round?  was  good ;  and  he  glanced  at  the 
backs  of  the  books  with  an  awakened  curiosity  that 
went  below  the  binding.  No  one  who  can  read  ever 
looks  at  a  book,  even  unopened  on  a  shelf,  like  one 
who  cannot. 

"  Were  any  means  taken,  do  you  know,  boy,  to  as- 
certain if  it  was  possible  to  restore  life  ?"  Mortimer 
inquired,  as  he  sought  for  his  hat. 

"  You  wouldn't  ask,  sir,  if  you  knew  his  state.  Pha- 
raoh's multitude  that  were  drowned  in  the  Red  Sea, 
ain't  more  beyond  restoring  to  life.  If  Lazarus  was 
only  half  as  far  gone,  that  was  the  greatest  of  all  the 
miracles." 

"  Halloa !"  cried  Mortimer,  turning  round  with  his 
hat  upon  his  head,  "  you  seem  to  be  at  home  in  the 
Red  Sea,  my  young  friend  ?" 

"  Read  of  it  with  teacher  at  the  school,"  said  the 
boy. 

"  And  Lazarus  ?" 

"  Yes,  and  him  too.    But  don't  you  tell  my  father ! 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  31 

We  should  have  no  peace  in  our  place  if  that  got 
touched  upon.     "It's  my  sister's  contriving." 

"  You  seem  to  have  a  good  sister." 

"She  ain't  half  bad,"  said  the  boy;  "but  if  she 
knows  her  letters  it's  the  most  she  does — and  them  I 
learned  her." 

The  gloomy  Eugene,  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets, 
had  strolled  in  and  assisted  at  the  latter  part  of  the 
dialogue ;  when  the  boy  spoke  these  words  slightingly 
of  his  sister,  he  took  him  roughly  enough  by  the  chin, 
and  turned  up  his  face  to  look  at  it. 

"Well,  I'm  sure,  sir!"  said  the  boy,  resisting;  "I 
hope  you'll  know  me  again." 

Eugene  vouchsafed  no  answer ;  but  made  the  pro- 
posal to  Mortimer,  "  I'll  go  with  you,  if  you  like  ?" 
So  they  all  three  went  away  together  in  the  vehicle 
that  had  brought  the  boy ;  the  two  friends  (once  boys 
together  at  a  public  school)  inside,  smoking  cigars ; 
the  boy  on  the  box  beside  the  driver. 

"  Let  me  see,"  said  Mortimer,  as  they  went  along ; 
"  I  have  been,  Eugene,  upon  the  honorable  roll  of  so- 
licitors of  the  High  Court  of  Chancery,  and  attorneys 
at  Common  Law,  five  years ;  and — except  gratuitously 
taking  instructions  on  an  average  once  a  fortnight,  for 
the  will  of  Lady  Tippins,  who  has  nothing  to  leave — 
I  have  had  no  scrap  of  business  but  this  romantic 
business." 

"  And  I,"  said  Eugene,  "  have  been  '  called'  seven 
years,  and  have  had  no  business  at  all,  and  never  shall 
have  any.  And  if  I  had,  I  shouldn't  know  how  to  do 
it." 

"  I  am  far  from  being  clear  as  to  the  last  particular," 


32  OUR   MUTUAL   FRTEND. 

returned  Mortimer,  with  great  composure,  "that  I 
have  much  advantage  over  you." 

"I  hate,"  said  Eugene,  putting  his  legs  up  on  the 
opposite  seat,  "  I  hate  my  profession." 

"  Shall  I  incommode  yon,  if  I  put  mine  up  too  ?" 
returned  Mortimer.     "Thank  you.     I  hate  mine." 

"  It  was  forced  upon  me,"  said  the  gloomy  Eugene, 
"because  it  was  understood  that  we  wanted  a 
barrister  in  the  family.  We  have  got  a  precious 
one." 

"  It  was  forced  upon  me,"  said  Mortimer,  "  because 
it  was  understood  that  we  wanted  a  solicitor  in  the 
family.     And  we  have  got  a  precious  one." 

"There  are  four  of  us,  with  our  names  painted  on  a 
door-post  in  right  of  one  black  hole  called  a  set  of 
chambers,"  said  Eugene;  "and  each  of  us  has  the 
fourth  of  a  clerk — Cassim  Baba,  in  the  robber's  cave — 
and  Cassim  is  the  only  respectable  member  of  the 
party." 

"  I  am  one  by  myself,  one,"  said  Mortimer,  "  high 
up  an  awful  staircase  commanding  a  burial-ground  ; 
and  I  have  a  whole  clerk  to  myself,  and  he  has  noth- 
ing to  do  but  look  at  the  burial-ground,  and  what  he 
will  turn  out  when  arrived  at  maturity  I  cannot  con- 
ceive. Whether,  in  that  shabby  rook's  nest,  he  is  al- 
ways plotting  wisdom,  or  plotting  murder;  whether 
he  will  grow  up,  after  so  much  solitary  brooding,  to 
enlighten  his  fellow-creatures,  or  to  poison  them,  is  the 
only  speck  of  interest  that  presents  itself  to  my  profes- 
sional view.     Will  you  give  me  a  light  ?    Thank  you." 

"  Then  idiots  talk,"  said  Eugene,  leaning  back,  fold- 
ing his  arms,  smoking  with  his  eyes  shut,  and  speak- 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  33 

ing  slightly  through  his  nose,  "  of  Energy.  If  there  is 
a  word  in  the  dictionary  under  any  letter  from  A  to 
Z  that  I  abominate,  it  is  energy..  It  is  such  a  conven- 
tional superstition,  such  parrot  gabble!  What  the 
deuce !  Am  I  to  rush  out  into  the  street,  collar  the 
first  man  of  a  wealthy  appearance  that  I  meet,  shake 
him,  and  say,  c  Go  to  law  upon  the  spot,  you  dog,  and 
retain  me,  or  I'll  be  the  death  of  you?'  Yet  that 
would  be  energy." 

"  Precisely  my  view  of  the  case,  Eugene.  But  show 
me  a  good  opportunity,  show  me  something  really 
worth  being  energetic  about,  and  I'll  show  you 
energy." 

"  And  so  will  I,"  said  Eugene. 

And  it  is  likely  enough  that  ten  thousand  other 
young  men,  within  the  limits  of  the  London  post-office 
town  delivery,  made  the  same  hopeful  remark  in  the 
course  of  the  same  evening. 

The  wheels  rolled  on,  and  rolled  down  by  the  Monu- 
ment and  the  Tower,  and  by  the  docks ;  down  by  Rat- 
cliffe,  and  by  Rotherhithe ;  down  by  where  accumulated 
scum  of  humanity  seemed  to  be  washed  from  higher 
grounds,  like  so  much  moral  sewage,  and  to  be  pausing 
until  its  own  weight  forced  it  over  the  bank  and  sunk 
it  in  the  river.  In  and  out  among  ships  that  seemed  to 
have  got  ashore,  and  houses  that  seemed  to  have  got 
afloat — among  bowsprits  staring  into  windows,  and 
windows  staring  into  water — the  wheels  rolled  on,  until 
they  stopped  at  a  dark  corner,  river-washed  and  oth- 
erwise not  washed  at  all,  where  the  boy  alighted  and 
opened  the  door. 

"  You  must  walk  the  rest,  sir ;  it's  not  many  yards." 


34  OUK   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

He  spoke  in  the  singular  number  to  the  express  ex- 
clusion of  Eugene. 

"  This  is  a  confoundedly  out-of-the-way  place,"  said 
Mortimer,  slipping  over  the  stones  and  refuse  on  the 
shore,  as  the  boy  turned  the  corner  sharp. 

"  Here's  my  father's,  Sir ;  where  the  light  is." 
The  low  building  had  the  look  of  having  once  been 
a  mill.  There  was  a  rotten  wart  of  wood  upon  its 
forehead  that  seemed  to  indicate  where  the  sails  had 
been,  but  the  whole  was  very  indistinctly  seen  in  the 
obscurity  of  the  night.  The  boy  lifted  the  latch  of 
the  door,  and  they  passed  at  once  into  a  low  circular 
room,  where  a  man  stood  before  a  red  fire,  looking 
down  into  it,  and  a  girl  sat  engaged  in  needle-work. 
The  fire  was  in  a  rusty  brazier,  not  fitted  to  the  hearth  ; 
and  a  common  lamp,  shaped  like  a  hyacinth-root, 
smoked  and  flared  in  the  neck  of  a  stone  bottle  on 
the  table.  There  was  a  wooden  bunk  or  berth  in  a 
corner,  and  in  another  corner  a  wooden  stair  lead- 
ing above — so  clumsy  and  steep  that  it  was  little 
better  than  a  ladder.  Two  or  three  old  sculls  and 
oars  stood  against  the  wall,  and  against  another  part 
of  the  wall  was  a  small  dresser,  making  a  spare  show 
of  the  commonest  articles  of  crockery  and  cooking- 
vessels.  The  roof  of  the  room  was  not  plastered,  but 
was  formed  of  the  flooring  of  the  room  above.  This, 
being  very  old,  knotted,  seamed,  and  beamed,  gave  a 
lowering  aspect  to  the  chamber;  and  roof,  and  walls, 
and  floor,  alike  abounding  in  old  smears  of  flour,  red- 
lead  (or  some  such  stain  which  it  had  probably  acquired 
in  warehousing),  and  damp,  alike  had  a  look  of  decom- 
position. 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  35 

"  The  gentleman,  father." 

The  figure  at  the  red  fire  turned,  raised  its  ruffled 
head,  and  looked  like  a  bird  of  prey. 

"You're  Mortimer  Lightwood,  esquire;  are  you, 
Sir  ?" 

"Mortimer  Lightwood   is  my  name.     What   you 
found,"   said   Mortimer,  glancing   rather   shrinkingly  . 
towards  the  bunk ;  "  is  it  here  ?" 

"  'Tain't  not  to  say  here,  but  it's  close  by.  I  do 
every  thing  reg'lar.  I've  giv'  notice  of  the  circum- 
starnce  to  the  police,  and  the  police  have  took  posses- 
sion of  it.  No  time  ain't  been  lost,  on  any  hand.  The 
police  have  put  it  into  print  already,  and  here's  what 
the  print  says  of  it." 

Taking  up  the  bottle  with  the  lamp  in  it,  he  held  it 
near  a  paper  on  the  wall,  with  the  police  heading, 
Found  Drowned.  The  two  friends  read  the  hand- 
bill as  it  stuck  against  the  wall,  and  Gaffer  read  them 
as  he  held  the  light. 

"  Only  papers  on  the  unfortunate  man,  I  see,"  said 
Lightwood,  glancing  from  the  description  of  what  was 
found,  to  the  finder. 

"  Only  papers." 

Here  the  girl  arose  with  the  work  in  her  hand,  and 
went  out  at  the  door. 

"  No  money,"  pursued  Mortimer ;  "  but  three-pence 
in  one  of  the  skirt-pockets." 

"  Three.  Penny.  Pieces,"  said  Gaffer  Hexam,  in 
as  many  sentences. 

"The  trowsers-pockets  empty,  and  turned  inside 
out." 

Gaffer    Hexam    nodded.      "But    that's    common. 


36  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

Whether  it's  the  wash  of  the  tide  or  no,  I  can't  say. 
Now  here,"  moving  the  light  to  another  Found 
Drowned  placard,  "his  pockets  was  found  empty,  and 
turned  inside  out.  And  here,"  moving  the  light  to 
another,  "her  pocket  was  found  empty,  and  turned 
inside  out.  And  so  was  this  one's.  And  so  was  that 
one's.  I  can't  read,  nor  I  don't  want  to  it,  for  I 
know  'em  by  their  places  on  the  wall.  This  one  was 
a  sailor,  with  two  anchors  and  a  flag  and  G.  F.  T.  on 
his  arm.    Look  and  see  if  he  warn't." 

"  Quite  right." 

"  This  one  was  the  young  woman  in  gray  boots, 
and  her  linen  marked  with  a  cross.  Look  and  see 
if  she  warn't." 

"  Quite  right." 

"  This  is  him  as  had  a  nasty  cut  over  the  eye.  This 
is  them  two  young  sisters  what  tied  themselves  to- 
gether with  a  handkercher.  This  is  the  drunken  old 
chap,  in  a  pair  of  list  slippers  and  a  night-cap,  wot  .had 
offered — it  afterwards  come  out — to  make  a  hole  in  the 
water  for  a  quartern  of  rum  stood  aforehand,  and  kept 
to  his  word  for  the  first  and  last  time  in  his  life.  They 
pretty  well  papers  the  room  you  see ;  but  I  know  'em 
all.     I'm  scholar  enough  !" 

He  waved  the  light  over  the  whole,  as  if  to  typify 
the  light  of  his  scholarly  intelligence,  and  then  put  it 
down  on  the  table  and  stood  behind  it,  looking  in- 
tently at  his  visitors.  He  had  the  special  peculiarity 
of  some  birds  of  prey,  that  when  he  knitted  his  brow 
his  ruffled  crest  stood  highest. 

"You  did  not  find  all  these  yourself;  did  you?" 
asked  Eugene. 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  37 

To  which  the  bird  of  prey  slowly  rejoined,  "And 
what  might  your  name  be,  now  ?" 

"This  is  my  friend,"  Mortimer  Lightwood  inter- 
posed; "Mr.  Eugene  Wrayburn." 

"  Mr.  Eugene  Wrayburn,  is  it  ?  And  what  might 
Mr.  Eugene  Wrayburn  have  asked  of  me  ?" 

"  I  asked  you,  simply,  if  you  found  all  these  your- 
self?" 

"  I  answer  you,  simply,  most  on  'em." 

"  Do  you  suppose  there  has  been  much  violence  and 
robbery,  beforehand,  among  these  cases  ?" 

"  I  don't  suppose  at  all  about  it,"  returned  Gaffer. 
"  I  ain't  one  of  the  supposing  sort.  If  you'd  got  your 
living  to  haul  out  of  the  river  every  day  of  your  life, 
you  mightn't  be  much  given  to  supposing.  Am  I  to 
show  the  way  ?" 

As  he  opened  the  door,  in  pursuance  of  a  nod  from 
Lightwood,  an  extremely  pale  and  disturbed  face  appear- 
ed in  the  doorway — the  face  of  a  man  much  agitated. 

"A  body  missing  ?"  asked  Gaffer  Hexam,  stopping 
short ;  "  or  a  body  found  ?     Which  ?" 

"  I  am  lost,"  replied  the  man,  in  a  hurried  and  an 
eager  manner. 

"Lost!" 

"I — I — am  a  stranger,  and  don't  know  the  way. 
I — I — want  to  find  the  place  where  I  can  see  what  is 
described  here.  It  is  possible  I  may  know  it."  He 
was  panting,  and  could  hardly  speak ;  but,  he  showed 
a  copy  of  the  newly-printed  bill  that  was  still  wet  upon 
the  wall.  Perhaps  its  newness,  or  perhaps  the  accu- 
racy of  his  observation  of  its  general  look,  guided 
Gaffer  to  a  ready  conclusion. 


38  OUR   MUTUAL   FEIKND. 

"This  gentleman,  Mr.  Lightwood,  is  on  that  busi- 
ness." 

"  Mr.  Lightwood  ?" 

During  a  pause  Mortimer  and  the  stranger  con- 
fronted each  other.     Neither  knew  the  other. 

"  I  think,  sir,"  said  Mortimer,  breaking  the  awk. 
ward  silence  with  his  airy  self-possession,  "  that  you 
did  me  the  honor  to  mention  my  name  ?" 

"I  repeated  it,  after  this  man." 

"  You  said  you  were  a  stranger  in  London  ?" 

"An  utter  stranger." 

"Are  you  seeking  a  Mr.  Harmon  ?" 

"  No." 

"  Then  I  believe  I  can  assure  you  that  you  are  on  a 
fruitless  errand,  and  will  not  find  what  you  fear  to 
find.     Will  you  come  with  us  ?" 

A  little  winding  through  some  muddy  alleys  that  might 
have  been  deposited  by  the  last  ill-savored  tide,  brought 
them  to  the  wicket-gate  and  bright  lamp  of  a  Police  Sta- 
tion ;  where  they  found  the  Night-Inspector,  with  a  pen 
and  ink,  and  ruler,  posting  up  his  books  in  a  white- 
washed office,  as  studiously  as  if  he  were  in  a  monas- 
tery on  the  top  of  a  mountain,  and  no  howling  fury 
of  a  drunken  woman  were  banging  herself  against  a 
cell-door  in  the  back-yard  at  his  elbow.  With  the  same 
air  of  a  recluse  much  given  to  study,  he  desisted  from 
his  books  to  bestow  a  distrustful  nod  of  recognition 
upon  Gaffer,  plainly  importing,  "Ah,  we  know  all 
about  you,  and  you'll  overdo  it  some  day ;"  and  to  in- 
form Mr.  Mortimer  Lightwood  and  friends  that  he  would 
attend  them  immediately.  Then,  he  finished  ruling 
the  work  he  had  in  hand  (it  might  have  been  illumin- 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRTEND.  39 

ating  a  missal,  he  was  so  calm),  in  a  very  neat  and 
methodical  manner,  showing  not  the  slightest  con- 
sciousness of  the  woman  who  was  banging  herself 
with  increased  violence,  and  shrieking  most  terrifically 
for  some  other  woman's  liver. 

"A  bull's-eye,"  said  the  Night-Inspector,  taking  up 
his  keys,  which  a  deferential  satellite  produced. 
"  Nowj  gentlemen." 

With  one  of  his  keys  he  opened  a  cool  grot  at  the 
end  of  the  yard,  and  they  all  went  in.  They  quickly 
came  out  again,  no  one  speaking  but  Eugene ;  who 
remarked  to  Mortimer,  in  a  whisper,  "Not  much 
worse  than  Lady  Tippins." 

So,  back  to  the  whitewashed  library  of  the  monas- 
tery— with  that  liver  still  in  shrieking  requisition,  as 
it  had  been  loudly,  while  they  looked  at  the  silent 
sight  they  came  to  see — and  there  through  the  merits 
of  the  case  as  summed  up  by  the  Abbot.  No  clew  to 
how  body  came  into  river.  Very  often  was  no  clew. 
Too  late  to  know  for  certain,  whether  injuries  received 
before  or  after  death ;  one  excellent  surgical  opinion 
said,  before ;  other  excellent  surgical  opinion  said,  after 
Steward  of  ship  in  which  gentleman  came  home  pas- 
senger, had  been  round  to  view,  and  had  no  doubt  of 
identity.  Likewise  could  swear  to  clothes.  And 
then,  you  see,  you  had  the  papers,  too.  How  was  it 
he  had  totally  disappeared  on  leaving  ship,  'till  found 
in  river  ?  Well !  probably  had  been  upon  some  little 
game.  Probably  thought  it  a  harmless  game,  wasn't 
up  to  things,  and  it  turned  out  a  fatal  game.  Inquest 
to-morrow,  and  no  doubt  open  verdict. 

"  It  appears  to  have  knocked  your  friend  over — 


40  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

knocked  him  completely  off  his  legs,"  Mr.  Inspector 
remarked,  when  he  had  finished  his  summing  up.  "  It 
has  given  him  a  bad  turn,  to  be  sure !"  This  was  said 
in  a  very  low  voice,  and  with  a  searching  look  (not 
the  first  he  had  cast)  at  the  stranger. 

Mr.  Lightwood  explained  that  it  was  no  friend  of 
his. 

"  Indeed  ?"  said  Mr.  Inspector,  with  an  attentive 
ear ;  "  where  did  you  pick  him  up  ?" 

Mr.  Lightwood  explained  further. 

Mr.  Inspector  had  delivered  his  summing  up,  and 
had  added  these  words,  with  his  elbows  leaning  on 
his  desk,  and  the  fingers  and  thumb  of  his  right  hand, 
fitting  themselves  to  the  fingers  and  thumb  of  his 
left.  Mr.  Inspector  moved  nothing  but  his  eyes,  as  he 
now  added,  raising  his  voice : 

"  Turned  you  faint,  sir !  Seems  you're  not  accus- 
tomed to  this  kind  of  work  ?" 

The  stranger,  who  was  leaning  against  the  chimney- 
piece  with  drooping  head,  looked  round  and  answered, 
"  No.     It's  a  horrible  sight !" 

"  You  expected  to  identify,  I  am  told,  sir  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"Have  you  identified?" 

"  No.  It's  a  horrible  sight.  Oh !  a  horrible,  hor- 
rible sight!" 

"  Who  did  you  think  it  might  have  been  ?"  asked 
Mr.  Inspector.  "  Give  us  a  description,  sir.  Perhaps 
we  can  help  you." 

"  No,  no,"  said  the  stranger ;  "  it  would  be  quite 
useless.     Good-night." 

Mr.  Inspector  had  not  moved,  and  had  given  no 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  41 

order ;  but  the  satellite  slipped  his  back  against  the 
wicket,  and  laid  his  left  arm  along  the  top  of  it,  and 
with  his  right  hand  turned  the  bull's-eye  he  had  taken 
from  his  chief— in  quite  a  casual  manner — towards  the 
stranger. 

"  You  missed  a  friend,  you  know ;  or  you  missed  a 
foe,  you  know ;  or  you  wouldn't  have  come  here,  you 
know.  Well,  then,  ain't  it  reasonable  to  ask,  who 
was  it  ?"    Thus,  Mr.  Inspector. 

"  You  must  excuse  my  telling  you.  No  class  of 
men  can  understand  better  than  you,  that  families  may 
not  choose  to  publish  their  disagreements  and  misfor- 
tunes, except  upon  the  last  necessity.  I  do  not  dis- 
pute that  you  discharge  your  duty  in  asking  me  the 
question ;  you  will  not  dispute  my  right  to  withhold 
the  answer.     Good-night." 

Again  he  turned  towards  the  wicket,  where  the 
satellite,  with  his  eye  upon  his  chief,  remained  a  dumb 
statue. 

"At  least,"  said  Mr.  Inspector,  "  you  will  not  object 
to  leave  me  your  card,  Sir  ?" 

"I  should  not  object,  if  I  had  one ;  but  I  have  not." 
He  reddened  and  was  much  confused  as  he  gave  the 
answer. 

"  At  least,"  said  Mr.  Inspector,  with  no  change  of 
voice  or  manner,  "you  will  not  object  to  write  down 
your  name  and  address  ?" 

"  Not  at  all." 

Mr.  Inspector  dipped  a  pen  in  his  inkstand,  and  soft* 
ly  laid  it  on  a  piece  of  paper  close  beside  him ;  then 
resumed  his  former  attitude.  The  stranger  stepped 
up  to  the  desk,  and  wrote  in  rather  a  tremulous  hand — 


42  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

Mr.  Inspector  taking  sidelong  note  of  every  hair  of  his 
head  when  it  was  bent  down  for  the  purpose — "Mr. 
Julius  Ilandford,  Exchequer  Coffee-House,  Palace 
Yard,  Westminster." 

"  Staying  there,  I  presume,  Sir  ?" 

"  Staying  there." 

"  Consequently,  from  the  country  ?" 

"  Eli  ?     Yes — from  the  country." 

"  Good-night,  Sir." 

The  satellite  removed  his  arm  and  opened  the  wick- 
et, and  Mr.  Julius  Handford  went  out. 

"Reserve!"  said  Mr.  Inspector.  "Take  care  oi 
this  piece  of  paper,  keep  him  in  view  without  giving 
offence,  ascertain  that  he  is  staying  there,  and  find 
out  any  thing  you  can  about  him." 

The  satellite  was  gone ;  and  Mr.  Inspector,  becom- 
ing once  again  the  quiet  Abbot  of  that  Monastery, 
dipped  his  pen  in  his  ink  and  resumed  his  books.  The 
two  friends  who  had  watched  him,  more  amused  by 
the  professional  manner  than  suspicious  of  Mr.  Julius 
Handford,  inquired  before  taking  their  departure  too 
whether  he  believed  there  was  any  thing  that  really 
looked  bad  here  ? 

The  Abbot  replied  with  reticence,  "  Couldn't  say. 
If  a  murder,  anybody  might  have  done  it.  Burglary 
or  pocket-picking  wanted  'prenticeship.  Not  so,  mur- 
der. We  were  all  of  us  up  to  that.  Had  seen  scores 
of  people  come  to  identify,  and  never  saw  one  person 
struck  in  that  particular  way.  Might,  however,  have 
been  Stomach,  and  not  Mind.  If  so,  rum  stomach.  But 
to  be  sure  there  were  rum  every  things.  Pity  there 
was  not  a  word  of  truth  in  that  superstition  about 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  43 

bodies  bleeding  when  touched  by  the  right  hand ;  you 
never  got  a  sign  out  of  bodies.  You  got  row  enough 
out  of  such  as  her — she  was  good  for  all  night  now" 
(referring  here  to  the  banging  demands  for  the  liver), 
"  but  you  got  nothing  out  of  bodies  if  it  was  ever 
so." 

There  being  nothing  more  to  be  done  until  the  in- 
quest was  held  next  day,  the  friends  went  away  to- 
gether, and  Gaffer  Hexam  and  his  son  went  their  sep- 
arate way.  But,  arriving  at  the  last  corner,  Gaffer 
bade  his  boy  go  home  while  he  turned  into  a  red-cur- 
tained tavern,  that  stood  dropsically  bulging  over  the 
dirty  causeway,  "  for  a  half-a-pint."    . 

The  boy  lifted  the  latch  he  had  lifted  before,  and 
found  his  sister  again  seated  before  the  fire  at  her 
work ;  who  raised  her  head  upon  his  coming  in  and 
asking : 

"  Where  did  you  go,  Liz  ?" 

"  I  went  out  in  the  dark." 

"  There  was  no  necessity  for  that.  It  was  all  right 
enough." 

"  One  of  the  gentlemen,  the  one  who  didn't  speak 
while  I  was  there,  looked  hard  at  me.  And  I  was 
afraid  he  might  know  what  my  face  meant.  But 
there!  Don't  mind  me,  Charley?  I  was  all  in  a 
tremble  of  another  sort  when  you  owned  to  father  you 
could  write  a  little." 

"  Ah !  But  I  made  believe  I  wrote  so  badly,  as  that 
it  was  odds  if  any  one  could  read  it.  And  when  I 
wrote  slowest  and  smeared  out  with  my  finger  most, 
father  was  best  pleased,  as  he  stood  looking  over 
me." 


44:  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

The  girl  put  aside  her  work,  and  drawing  her  seat 
close  to  his  seat  by  the  fire,  laid  her  arm  gently  on  his 
shoulder. 

"  You'll  make  the  most  of  your  time,  Charley ;  won't 
you  ?» 

"Won't  I?     Come!    I  like  that.     Don't  I?" 

"  Yes,  Charley,  yes.  You  work  hard  at  your  learn- 
ing, I  know.  And  I  work  a  little,  Charley,  and  plan 
and  contrive  a  little  (wake  out  of  my  sleep  contriving 
sometimes),  how  to  get  together  a  shilling  now,  and  a 
shilling  then,  that  shall  make  father  believe  you  are 
beginning  to  earn  a  stray  living  along  shore." 

"  You  are  father's  favorite,  and  can  make  him  be- 
lieve any  thing." 

"  I  wish  I  could,  Charley !  For  if  I  could  make  him 
believe  that  learning  was  a  good  thing,  and  that  we 
might  lead  better  lives,  I  should  be  a'most  content  to 
die." 

"  Don't  talk  stuff  about  dying,  Liz." 

She  placed  her  hands  in  one  another  on  his  shoul- 
der, and  laying  her  rich  brown  cheek  against  them  as 
she  looked  down  at  the  fire,  went  on  thoughtfully : 

"  Of  an  evening,  Charley,  when  you  are  at  the 
school,  and  father's — " 

"At  the  Six  Jolly  Fellowship-Porters,"  the  boy 
struck  in,  with  a  backward  nod  of  his  head  towards  the 
public  house. 

"  Yes.  Then  as  I  sit  a-looking  at  the  fire,  I  seem 
to  see  in  the  burning  coal — like  where  that  glow  is 
now — " 

"  That's  gas,  that  is,"  said  the  boy,  "  coming  out  of 
a  bit  of  a  forest  that's  been  under  the  mud  that  was 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  45 

under  the  water  in  the  days  of  Noah's  Ark.  Look 
here!  When  I  take  the  poker — so — and  give  it  a 
dig—" 

"  Don't  disturb  it,  Charley,  or  it'll  be  all  in  a  blaze. 
It's  that  dull  glow  near  it,  coming  and  going,  that  I 
mean.  When  I  look  at  it  of  an  evening,  it  comes  like 
pictures  to  me,  Charley." 

"  Show  us  a  picture,"  said  the  boy.  "  Tell  us  where 
to  look." 

"  Ah !     It  wants  my  eyes,  Charley." 

"  Cut  away  then,  and  tell  us  what  your  eyes  make 
of  it." 

"  Why,  there  are  you  and  me,  Charley,  when  you 
were  quite  a  baby  that  never  knew  a  mother — " 

"  Don't  go  saying  I  never  knew  a  mother,"  inter- 
posed the  boy,  "  for  I  knew  a  little  sister  that  was  sis- 
ter and  mother  both." 

The  girl  laughed  delightedly,  and  her  eyes  filled 
with  pleasant  tears,  as  he  put  both  his  arms  round  her 
waist  and  so  held  her. 

"  There"  are  you  and  me,  Charley,  when  father  was 
away  at  work  and  locked  us  out,  for  fear  we  should 
set  ourselves  afire  or  fall  out  of  window,  sitting  on  the 
door-sill,  sitting  on  other  door-steps,  sitting  on  the  bank 
of  the  river,  wandering  about  to  get  through  the  time. 
You  are  rather  heavy  to  carry,  Charley,  and  I  am 
often  obliged  to  rest.  Sometimes  we  are  sleepy  and 
fall  asleep  together  in  a  corner,  sometimes  we  are  very 
hungry,  sometimes  we  are  a  little  frightened,  but  what 
is  oftenest  hard  upon  us  is  the  cold.  You  remember, 
Charley?" 

"  I  remember,"  said  the  boy,  pressing  her  to  him 


46  OUR  MDTIAL  FRIEND. 

twice  or  thrice,  "  that  I  snuggled  under  a  little  shawl, 
and  it  was  warm  there." 

"  Sometimes  it  rains,  and  we  creep  under  a  boat  or 
the  like  of  that;  sometimes  it's  dark,  and  we  get 
among  the  gaslights,  sitting  watching  the  people  as 
they  go  along  the  streets.  At  last,  up  comes  father 
and  takes  us  home.  And  home  seems  such  a  shelter 
after  out  of  doors !  And  father  pulls  my  shoes  off,  and 
dries  my  feet  at  the  fire,  and  has  me  to  sit  by  him 
while  he  smokes  his  pipe  long  after  you  are  abed,  and 
I  notice  that  father's  is  a  large  hand  but  never  a  heavy 
one  when  it  touches  me,  and  that  father's  is  a  rough 
voice  but  never  an  angry  one  when  it  speaks  to  me. 
So,  I  grow  up,  and  little  by  little  father  trusts  me,  and 
makes  me  his  companion,  and,  let  him  be  put  out  as 
he  may,  never  once  strikes  me." 

The  listening  boy  gave  a  grunt  here,  as  much  as  to 
say,  "But  he  strikes  me  though !"  • 

"Those  are  some  of  the  pictures  of  what  is  past, 
Charley." 

"  Cut  away  again,"  said  the  boy,  "  and  give  us  a 
fortune-telling  one ;  a  future  one." 

"  Well !  There  am  I,  continuing  with  father  and 
holding  to  father,  because  father  loves  me  and  I  love 
father.  I  can't  so  much  as  read  a  book,  because,  if  I 
had  learned,  father  would  have  thought  I  was  desert- 
ing him,  and  I  should  have  lost  my  influence.  I  have 
not  the  influence  I  want  to  have,  I  cannot  stop  some 
dreadful  things  I  try  to  stop,  but  I  go  on  in  the  hope 
and  trust  that  the  time  will  come.  In  the  mean  while 
I  know  that  I  am  in  some  things  a  stay  to  father,  and 
that  if  I  was  not  faithful  to  him  he  would — in  revenge- 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND.  47 

like,  or  in  disappointment,  or  both — go  wild  and 
bad." 

"Give  us  a  touch  of  the  fortune-telling  pictures 
about  me." 

"  I  was  passing  on  to  them,  Charley,"  said  the  girl, 
who  had  not  changed  her  attitude  since  she  began, 
and  who  now  mournfully  shook  her  head ;  "  the  others 
were  all  leading  up.    There  are  you — " 

"Where  am  I,  Liz?" 

"  Still  in  the  hollow  down  by  the  flare." 

"There  seems  to  be  the  deuce-and-all  in  the  hollow 
down  by  the  flare,"  said  the  boy,  glancing  from  her 
eyes  to  the  brazier,  which  had  a  grisly  skeleton  look 
on  its  long  thin  legs. 

"  There  are  you,  Charley,  working  your  way,  in 
secret  from  father,  at  the  school ;  and  you  get  prizes ; 
and  you  go  on  better  and  better ;  and  you  come  to  be 
a — what  was  it  you  called  it  when  you  told  me  about 
that  ?" 

"  Ha,  ha !  Fortune-telling  not  know  the  name !" 
cried  the  boy,  seeming  to  be  rather  relieved  by  this 
default  on  the  part  of  the  hollow  down  by  the  flare. 
"  Pupil-teacher." 

"  You  come  to  be  a  pupil-teacher,  and  you  still  go 
on  better  and  better,  and  you  rise  to  be  a  master  full 
of  learning  and  respect.  But  the  secret  has  come  to 
father's  knowledge  long  before,  and  it  has  divided  you 
from  father,  and  from  me." 

"  No  it  hasn't !" 

"  Yes  it  has,  Charley.  I  see,  as  plain  as  plain  can 
be,  that  your  way  is  not  ours,  and  that  even  if  father 
could  be  got  to  forgive  your  taking  it  (which  he  never 


4:8  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

could  be),  that  way  of  yours  would  be  darkened  by 
our  way.     But  I  see  too,  Charley — " 

"  Still  as  plain  as  plain  can  be,  Liz  ?"  asked  the  boy, 
playfully. 

"  Ah  !  Still.  That  it  is  a  great  work  to  have  cut 
you  away  from  father's  life,  and  to  have  made  a  new 
and  good  beginning.  So  there  am  I,  Charley,  left 
alone  with  father,  keeping  him  as  straight  as  I  can, 
watching  for  more  influence  than  I  have,  and  hoping 
that  through  some  fortunate  chance,  or  when  he  is  ill, 
or  when — I  don't  know  what — I  may  turn  him  to  wish 
to  do  better  things." 

"  You  said  you  couldn't  read  a  book,  Lizzie.  Your 
library  of  books  is  the  hollow  down  by  the  flare,  I 
think." 

"I  should  be  very  glad  to  be  able  to  read  real  books. 
I  feel  my  want  of  learning  very  much,  Charley.  But 
I  should  feel  it  much  more,  if  I  didn't  know  it  to  be  a 
tie  between  me  and  father. — Hark !     Father's  tread !" 

It  being  now  past  midnight,  the  bird  of  prey  went 
straight  to  roost.  At  mid-day  following  he  reappear- 
ed at  the  Six  Jolly  Fellowship-Porters,  in  the  charac- 
ter, not  new  to  him,  of  a  witness  before  a  Coroner's 
Jury. 

Mr.  Mortimer  Lightwood,  besides  sustaining  the 
character  of  one  of  the  witnesses,  doubled  the  part 
with  that  of  the  eminent  solicitor  who  watched  the 
proceedings  on  behalf  of  the  representatives  of  the  de- 
ceased, as  was  duly  recorded  in  the  newspapers.  Mr. 
Inspector  watched  the  proceedings  too,  and  kept  his 
watching  closely  to  himself.  Mr.  Julius  Handford 
having  given  his  right  address,  and  being  reported  in 


fTe^ 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  49 

solvent  circumstances  as  to  his  bill,  though  nothing 
more  was  known  oi'  him  at  his  hotel  except  that  his 
way  of  life  was  very  retired,  had  no  summons  to  ap- 
pear, and  was  merely  present  in  the  shades  of  Mr.  In- 
spector's mind. 

The  case  was  made  interesting  to  the  public  by  Mr. 
Mortimer  Lightwood  giving  evidence  touching  the 
circumstances  under  which  the  deceased,  Mr.  John 
Harmon,  had  returned  to  England  ;  exclusive  private 
proprietorship  in  which  circumstances  was  set  up  at 
dinner-tables  for  several  days,  by  Veneering,  Twem- 
low,  Podsnap,  and  all  the  Buffers :  who  all  related 
them  irreconcilably  with  one  another,  and  contradicted 
themselves.  It  was  also  made  interesting  by  the  tes- 
timony of  Job  Potterson,  the  ship's  steward,  and  one 
Mr.  Jacob  Kibble,  a  fellow-passenger,  that  the  deceas- 
ed Mr.  John  Harmon  did  bring  over,  in  a  hand-valise 
with  which  he  did  disembark,  the  sum  he  had  realized 
by  the  forced  sale  of  his  little  landed  property,  and 
that  the  sum  exceeded,  in  ready  money,  seven  hun- 
dred pounds.  It  was  further  made  interesting  by  the 
remarkable  experiences  of  Jesse  Hexam  in  having 
rescued  from  the  Thames  so  many  dead  bodies,  and 
for  whose  behoof  a  rapturous  admirer,  subscribing 
himself,  "  A  friend  to  Burial"  (perhaps  an  undertaker), 
sent  eighteen  postage-stamps,  and  five  "  Now  Sir"s  to 
the  editor  of  the  Times. 

Upon  the  evidence  adduced  before  them  the  Jury 
found,  That  the  body  of  Mr.  John  Harmon  had  been 
discovered  floating  in  the  Thames,  in  an  advanced 
state  of  decay,  and  much  injured,  and  that  the  said 
Mr.  John  Harmon   had   come   by  his   death   under 


50  OUR  MUTUAL    FRIEND. 

highly  suspicious  circumstances,  though  by  whose  act 
or  in  what  precise  manner  there  was  no  evidence 
before  this  Jury  to  show.  And  they  appended  to 
their  verdict  a  recommendation  to  the  Home  Office 
(which  Mr.  Inspector  appeared  to  think  highly  sensi- 
ble), to  offer  a  reward  for  the  solution  of  the  mystery. 
Within  eight-and-forty  hours  a  reward  of  One  Hun- 
dred Pounds  was  proclaimed,  together  with  a  free 
pardon  to  any  person  or  persons  not  the  actual  per- 
petrator or  perpetrators,  and  so  forth  in  due  form. 

This  Proclamation  rendered  Mr.  Inspector  addi- 
tionally studious,  and  caused  him  to  stand  meditating 
on  river-stairs  and  causeways,  and  to  go  lurking  about 
in  boats,  putting  this  and  that  together.  But,  accord- 
ing to  the  success  with  which  you  put  this  and  that 
together,  you  get  a  woman  and  a  fish  apart,  or  a  Mer- 
maid in  combination.  And  Mr.  Inspector  could  turn 
out  nothing  better  than  a  Mermaid,  which  no  Judge 
and  Jury  would  believe  in. 

Thus,  like  the  tides  on  which  it  had  been  borne  to 
the  knowledge  of  men,  the  Harmon  Murder — as  it 
came  to  be  popularly  called — went  up  and  down,  and 
ebbed  and  flowed,  now  in  the  town,  now  in  the 
country,  now  among  palaces,  now  among  hovels,  now 
among  lords  and  ladies  and  gentlefolks,  now  among 
laborers  and  hammerers  and  ballast-heavers,  until  at 
last,  after  a  long  interval  of  slack-water,  it  got  out  to 
to  sea  and  drifted  away. 


OUR  MUTUAL    FRIEND.  51 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE   R.   WILFER    FAMILY. 

Reginald  Wilfer  is  a  name  with  rather  a  grand 
sound,  suggesting  on  first  acquaintance  brasses  in 
country  churches,  scrolls  in  stained-glass  windows,  and 
generally  the  De  Wilfers  who  came  over  with  the 
Conqueror.  For,  it  is  a  remarkable  fact  in  genealogy, 
that  no  De  Any  ones  ever  came  over  with  Any  body 
else. 

But  the  Reginald  Wilfer  family  were  of  such  com- 
monplace extraction  and  pursuits  that  their  fore- 
fathers had  for  generations  modestly  subsisted  on  the 
Docks,  the  Excise-Office,  and  the  Custom-House,  and 
the  existing  R.  Wilfer  was  a  poor  clerk.  So  poor  a 
clerk,  though  having  a  limited  salary  and  an  unlimited 
family,  that  he  had  never  yet  attained  the  modest  ob- 
ject of  his  ambition :  which  was,  to  wear  a  complete 
new  suit  of  clothes,  hat  and  boots  included,  at  one 
time.  His  black  hat  was  brown  before  he  could  afford 
a  coat,  his  pantaloons  were  white  at  the  seams  and 
knees  before  he  could  buy  a  pair  of  boots,  his  boots 
had  worn  out  before  he  could  treat  himself  to  new 
pantaloons,  and,  by  the  time  he  worked  round  to  the 
hat  again,  that  shining  modern  article  roofed-in  an 
ancient  ruin  of  various  periods. 


52  OUR   MUTUAL    FRIEND. 

If  the  conventional  Cherub  could  ever  grow  up  and 
clothed,  he  might  be  photographed  as  a  view  of  Wilfer. 
His  chubby,  Smooth,  innocent  appearance  was  a  reason 
for  his  being  always  treated  with  condescension  when 
he  was  not  put  down.  A  stranger  entering  his  own 
poor  house,  at  about  ten  o  clock,  p.  m.,  might  have 
been  surprised  to  find  him  sitting  up  to  supper.  So 
boyish  was  he  in  his  curves  and  proportions,  that  his 
old  schoolmaster  meeting  him  in  Cheapside,  might 
have  been  unable  to  withstand  the  temptation  of 
caning  him  on  the  spot.  In  short,  he  was  the 
conventional  cherub,  after  the  supposititious  shoot 
just  mentioned,  rather  gray,  with  signs  of  care  on 
his  expression,  and  in  decidedly  insolvent  circum- 
stances. 

He  was  shy,  and  unwilling  to  own  to  the  name  of 
Reginald,  as  being  too  aspiring  and  self-assertive  a 
name.  In  his  signature  he  used  only  the  initial  R., 
and  imparted  what  it  really  stood  for  to  none  but 
chosen  friends,  under  the  seal  of  confidence.  Out  of 
this,  the  facetious  habit  had  arisen  in  the  neighbor- 
hood surrounding  Mincing-lane  of  making  Christian 
names  for  him  of  adjectives  and  participles  beginning 
with  R.  Some  of  these  were  more  or  less  appropriate  : 
as  Rusty,  Retiring,  Ruddy,  Round,  Ripe,  Ridiculous, 
Ruminative;  others  derived  their  point  from  their 
want  of  application — as  Raging,  Rattling,  Roaring, 
Raffish.  But  his  popular  name  was  Rumty,  which  in 
a  moment  of  inspiration  had  been  bestowed  upon  him 
by  a  gentleman  of  convivial  habits  connected  with 
the  drug  market,  as  the  beginning  of  a  social  chorus, 
his  leading  part  in  the  execution  of  which  had  led  this 


OUR   MUTUAL    FRIEND.  53 

gentleman  to  the  Temple  of  Fame,  and  of  which  the 
whole  expressive  burden  ran  : 

"  Rumty  iddity,  row  dow  dow, 
Sing  toodlely,  teedlely,  bow,  wow,  wow." 

Thus  he  was  constantly  addressed,  even  in  minor  notes 
on  business,  as  "  Dear  Rumpty ;"  in  answer  to  which, 
he  sedately  signed  himself,  "  Yours  truly,  R.  Wilfer." 

He  was  clerk  in  the  drug-house  of  Chieksey,  Ve- 
neering, and  Stobbles.  Chieksey  and  Stobbles,  his 
former  masters,  had  both  become  absorbed  in  Veneer- 
ing, once  their  traveller  or  commission  asrent:  who 
had  signalized  his  accession  to  supreme  power  by 
bringing  into  the  business  a  quantity  of  plate-glass 
window  and  French-polished  mahogany  partition,  and 
a  gleaming  and  enormous  door-plate. 

R.  Wilfer  locked  up  his  desk  one  evening,  and,  put- 
ting his  bunch  of  keys  in  his  pocket  much  as  if  it 
were  his  peg-top,  made  for  home.  His  house  was  in  the 
Holloway  region  north  of  London,  and  then  divided 
from  it  by  fields  and  trees.  Between  Battle  Bridge 
and  that  part  of  the  Holloway  district  in  which  he 
dwelt,  was  a  tract  of  suburban  Sahara,  where  tiles  and 
bricks  were  burnt,  bones  were  boiled,  carpets  were 
beat,  rubbish  was  shot,  dogs  were  fought,  and  dust 
was  heaped  by  contractors.  Skirting  the  border  of 
this  desert,  by  the  way  he  took,  when  the  light  of  its 
kiln-fires  made  lurid  smears  on  the  fog,  R.  Wilfer 
sighed  and  shook  his  head. 

"  Ah  me !"  said  he,  "  what  might  have  been  is  not 
what  is !" 

With  which  commentary  on  human  life,  indicating 


54  OUR   MUTUAL    FRIEND. 

an  experience  of  it  not  exclusively  his  own,  he  made 
the  best  of  his  way  to  the  end  of  his  journey. 

Mrs.  Wilfer  was,  of  course,  a  tall  woman  and  an 
angular.  Her  lord  being  cherubic,  she  was  necessarily 
majestic,  according  to  the  principle  which  matri- 
monially unites  contrasts.  She  was  much  given  to 
tying  up  her  head  in  a  pocket-handkerchief,  knotted 
under  the  chin.  This  head-gear,  in  conjunction  with 
a  pair  of  gloves  worn  within  doors,  she  seemed  to 
consider  as  at  once  a  kind  of  armor  against  misfortune 
(invariably  assuming  it  when  in  low  spirits  or  difficul- 
ties), and  as  a  species  of  full  dress.  It  was  therefore 
with  some  sinking  of  the  spirit  that  her  husband  be- 
held her  thus  heroically  attired,  putting  down  her 
candle  in  the  little  hall,  and  coming  down  the  door- 
steps through  the  little  front  court  to  open  the  gate 
for  him. 

Something  had  gone  wrong  with  the  house-door, 
for  R.  Wilfer  stopped  on  the  steps,  staring  at  it,  and 
cried,  "  Halloa  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Wilfer,  "  the  man  came  himself 
with  a  pair  of  pincers,  and  took  it  off,  and  took  it 
away.  He  said  that  as  he  had  no  expectation  of  ever 
getting  paid  for  it,  and  as  he  had  an  order  for  another 
Ladies'  School  door-plate,  it  was  better  (burnished 
up)  for  the  interests  of  all  parties." 

"  Perhaps  it  was,  my  clear ;  what  do  you  think  ?" 

"  You  are  master  here,  R.  W.,"  returned  his  wife. 
"It  is  as  you  think;  not  as  I  do.  Perhaps  it  might 
have  been  better  if  the  man  had  taken  the  door,  too?" 

"  My  dear,  we  couldn't  have  done  without  the  door." 

"  Couldn't  we  ?" 


OUR   MUTUAL    FRIEND.  55 

"  Why,  my  dear !  Could  we  ?" 
"  It  is  as  you  think,  R.  W. ;  not  as  I  do." 
With  those  submissive  words,  the  dutiful  wife  pre- 
ceded him  down  a  few  stairs  to  a  little  basement  front 
room,  half  kitchen,  half  parlor,  where  a  girl  of  about 
nineteen,  with  an  exceedingly  pretty  figure  and  face, 
but  with  an  impatient  and  petulant  expression  both 
in  her  face  and  in  her  shoulders  (which,  in  her  sex 
and  at  her  age,  are  very  expressive  of  discontent), 
sat  playing  draughts  with  a  younger  girl,  who  was 
the  youngest  of  the  House  of  Wilfer.  Not  to  en- 
cumber this  page  by  telling  off  the  Wilfers  in  detail, 
and  casting  them  up  in  the  gross,  it  is  enough  for  the 
present  that  the  rest  were  what  is  called  "  out  in  the 
world,"  in  various  ways,  and  that  they  were  Many. 
So  many,  that  when  one  of  his  dutiful  children  called 
in  to  see  him,  R.  Wilfer  generally  seemed  to  say  to 
himself,  after  a  little  mental  arithmetic,  "  Oh !  here's 
another  of  'em !"  before  adding  aloud,  "  How  de  do, 
John,"  or  Susan,  as  the  case  might  be. 

"  Well,  Piggywiggies,"  said  R.  W.,  "  how  de  do 
to-night?  What  I  was  thinking  of,  my  dear,"  to 
Mrs.  Wilfer  already  seated  in  a  corner  with  folded 
gloves,  "  was,  that  as  we  have  let  our  first  floor  so 
well,  and  as  we  have  now  no  place  in  which  you  could 
teach  pupils,  even  if  pupils — " 

"  The  milkman  said  he  knew  of  two  young  ladies  o 
the  highest  respectability  who  were  in  search  of.  a 
suitable  establishment,  and  he  took  a  card,"  interposed 
Mrs.  Wilier,  with  severe  monotony,  as  if  she  were 
reading  an  Act  of  Parliament  aloud.  "Tell  your 
father  whether  it  was  last  Monday,  Bella." 


56  OUR   MUTUAL    FRIEND. 

"  But  we  never  heard  any  more  of  it,  ma,"  said 
Bella,  the  elder  girl. 

"In  addition  to  which,  my  dear,"  her  husband 
urged,  "  if  you  have  no  place  to  put  two  young  per- 
sons into — " 

"  Pardon  me,"  Mrs.  Wilfer  again  interposed  ;  "they 
were  not  young  persons.  Two  young  ladies  of  the 
highest  respectability.  Tell  your  father,  Bella,  whether 
the  milkman  said  so." 

"  My  dear,  it  is  the  same  thing." 

"  No  it  is  not,"  said  Mrs.  Wilfer,  with  the  same 
impressive  monotony.     "  Pardon  me  !" 

"I  mean,  my  dear,  it  is  the  same  thing  as  to  space. 
As  to  space.  If  you  have  no  space  in  which  to  put 
two  youthful  fellow-creatures,  however  eminently  re- 
spectable, which  I  do  not  doubt,  where  are  those 
youthful  fellow-creatures  to  be  accommodated  ?  I 
carry  it  no  further  than  that.  And  solely  looking  at 
it,"  said  her  husband,  making  the  stipulation  at  once 
in  a  conciliatory,  complimentary,  and  argumentative 
tone — "  as  I  am  sure  you  will  agree,  my  love — from 
a  fellow-creature  point  of  view,  my  dear." 

"  I  have  nothing  more  to  say,"  returned  Mrs.  "Wilfer, 
with  a  meek  renunciatory  action  of  her  gloves.  "It 
is  as  you  think,  R.  W. ;  not  as  I  do." 

Here,  the  huffing  of  Miss  Bella  and  the  loss  of  three 
of  her  men  at  a  swoop,  aggravated  by  the  coronation 
of  an  opponent,  led  to  that  young  lady's  jerking  the 
draught-board  and  pieces  off  the  table :  which  hei 
sister  went  down  on  her  knees  to  pick  up. 

"  Poor  Bella  !"  said  Mrs.  Wilfer. 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  57 

"  And  poor  Lavinia,  perhaps,  my  dea^?"  suggested 
R.  W. 

"  Pardon  me,"  said  Mrs.  Wilfer,  "  no  !" 

It  was  one  of  the  worthy  woman's  specialties  that 
she  had  an  amazing  power  of  gratifying  her  splenetic 
or  worldly-minded  humors  by  extolling  her  own  fam 
ily :  which  she  thus  proceeded,  in  the  present  case,  to 
do. 

"  No,  R.  W.  Lavinia  has  not  known  the  trial  that 
Bella  has  known.  The  trial  that  your  daughter  Bella 
has  undergone,  is,  perhaps,  without  a  parallel,  and  has 
been  borne,  I  will  say,  nobly.  When  you  see  your 
daughter  Bella  in  her  black  dress,  which  she  alone  of 
all  the  family  wears,  and  when  you  remember  the  cir- 
cumstances which  have  led  to  her  wearing  it,  and 
when  you  know  how  those  circumstances  have  been 
sustained,  then,  R.  W.,  lay  your  head  upon  your  pil- 
low and  say,  '  Poor  Lavinia !'  " 

Here,  Miss  Lavinia,  from  her  kneeling  situation 
under  the  table,  put  in  that  she  didn't  want  to  be 
"  poored  by  pa,"  or  anybody  else. 

"I  am  sure  you  do  not,  my  dear,"  returned  her 
mother,  "  for  you  have  a  fine  brave  spirit.  And  your 
sister  Cecilia  has  a  fine  brave  spirit  of  another  kind,  a 
spirit  of  pure  devotion,  a  beau-ti-ful  spirit !  The  self- 
sacrifice  of  Cecilia  reveals  a  pure  and  womanly  charac- 
ter, very  seldom  equalled — never  surpassed.  I  have 
now  in  my  pocket  a  letter  from  your  sister  Cecilia, 
received  this  morning — received  three  months  after 
her  marriage,  poor  child  ! — in  which  she  tells  me  that 
her  husband  must  unexpectedly  shelter  under  their 
roof  his  reduced  aunt.     '  But  I  will  be  true  to  him, 


58  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

mamma,'  she  iouchingly  writes,  *  I  will  not  leave  him, 
I  must  not  forget  that  he  is  my  husband.  Let  his 
aunt  come !'  If  this  is  not  pathetic,  if  this  is  not 
woman's  devotion — !"  The  good  lady  waved  her 
gloves  in  a  sense  of  the  impossibility  of  saying  more, 
and  tied  the  pocket-handkerchief  over  her  head  in  a 
tighter  knot  under  her  chin. 

Bella,  who  was  now  seated  on  the  rug  to  warm  her- 
self, with  her  brown  eyes  on  the  fire  and  a  handful  of 
her  brown  curls  in  her  mouth,  laughed  at  this,  and 
then  pouted  and  half  cried. 

"  I  am  sure,"  said  she,  "  though  you  have  no  feel- 
ing for  me,  pa,  I  am  one  of  the  most  unfortunate  girls 
that  ever  lived.  You  know  how  poor  we  are"  (it  is 
probable  he  did,  having  some  reason  to  know  it !), 
"  and  what  a  glimpse  of  wealth  I  had,  and  how  it 
melted  away,  and  how  I  am  here  in  this  ridiculous 
mourning — which  I  hate ! — a  kind  of  a  widow  who 
never  was  married.  And  yet  you  don't  feel  for  me. 
Yes  you  do,  yes  you  do." 

This  abrupt  change  was  occasioned  by  her  father's 
face.  She  stopped  to  pull  him  down  from  his  chair  in 
an  attitude  highly  favorable  to  strangulation,  and  to 
give  him  a  kiss  and  a  pat  or  two  on  the  cheek. 

"  But  you  ought  to  feel  for  me,  you  know,  pa." 

"  My  dear,  I  do." 

"  Yes,  and  I  say  you  ought  to.  If  they  had  only 
left  me  alone  and  told  me  nothing  about  it,  it  would 
have  mattered  much  less.  But  that  nasty  Mr.  Light- 
wood  feels  it  his  duty,  as  he  says,  to  write  and  tell  me 
what  is  in  reserve  for  me,  and  then  I  am  obliged  to 
get  rid  of  George  Sampson." 


our 'mutual  friend.  59 

Here,  Lavinia,  rising  to  the  surface  with  the  last 
draughtsman  rescued,  interposed,  "  You  never  cared 
for  George  Sampson,  Bella." 

"  And  did  I  say  I  did,  miss  ?"  Then,  pouting 
again,  with  the  curls  in  her  mouth ;  "  George  Samp- 
son was  very  fond  of  me,  and  admired  me  very  much, 
and  put  up  with  every  thing  I  did  to  him." 

"  You  were  rude  enough  to  him,"  Lavinia  again 
interposed. 

"  And  did  I  say  I  wasn't,  miss  ?  I  am  not  setting 
up  to  be  sentimental  about  George  Sampson.  I  only 
say  George  Sampson  was  better  than  nothing." 

"  You  didn't  show  him  that  you  thought  even 
that,"  Lavinia  again  interposed. 

"  You  are  a  chit  and  a  little  idiot,"  returned  Bella, 
"  or  you  wouldn't  make  such  a  dolly  speech.  What 
did  you  expect  me  to  do  ?  Wait  till  you  are  a  woman, 
and  don't  talk  about  what  you  don't  understand.  You 
only  show  your  ignorance!"  Then,  whimpering 
again,  and  at  intervals  biting  the  curls,  and  stopping 
to  look  how  much  was  bitten  off,  "  It's  a  shame !  There 
never  was  such  a  hard  case !  I  shouldn't  care  so  much 
if  it  wasn't  so  ridiculous.  It  was  ridiculous  enough  to 
have  a  stranger  coming  over  to  marry  me,  whether  he 
liked  it  or  not.  It  was  ridiculous  enough  to  know 
what  an  embarrassing  meeting  it  would  be,  and  how 
we  never  could  pretend  to  have  an  inclination  of  our 
own,  either  of  us.  It  was  ridiculous  enough  to  know 
I  shouldn't  like  him — how  could  I  like  him,  left  to 
him  in  a  will  like  a  dozen  of  spoons,  with  every  thing 
cut  and  dried  beforehand,  like  orange  chips.  Talk  of 
orange  flowers  indeed !     I  declare  again  it's  a  shame ! 


60  OUR   MUTUAL    FRIEND. 

Those  ridiculous  points  would  have  been  smoothed 
away  by  the  money,  for  I  love  money,  and  want 
money — want  it  dreadfully.  I  hate  to  be  poor,  and 
we  are  degradingly  poor,  offensively  poor,  miserably 
poor,  beastly  poor.  But  here  I  am,  left  with  all  the 
ridiculous  parts  of  the  situation  remaining,  and,  added 
to  them  all,  this  ridiculous  dress !  And,  if  the  truth 
was  known,  when  the  Harmon  murder  was  all  over 
the  town,  and  people  were  speculating  on  its  being 
suicide,  I  dare  say  those  impudent  wretches  at  the 
clubs  and  places  made  jokes  about  the  miserable  crea- 
ture's having  preferred  a  watery  grave  to  me.  It's 
likely  enough  they  took  such  liberties;  I  shouldn't 
wonder !  I  declare  it's  a  very  hard  case  indeed,  and  I 
am  a  most  unfortunate  girl.  The  idea  of  being  a 
kind  of  a  widow,  and  never  having  been  married  ! 
And  the  idea  of  being  as  poor  as  ever  after  all,  and 
going  into  black,  besides,  for  a  man  I  never  saw,  and 
should  have  hated — as  far  as  he  was  concerned — if  I 
had  seen !" 

The  young  lady's  lamentations  were  checked  at  this 
point  by  a  knuckle  knocking  at  the  half-open  door  of 
the  room.  The  knuckle  had  knocked  two  or  three 
times  already,  but  had  not  been  heard. 

"  Who  is  it  ?»  said  Mrs.  Wilfer,  in  her  Act-of-Par- 
liament  manner.     "  Enter  !" 

A  gentleman  coming  in,  Miss  Bella,  with  a  short 
and  sharp  exclamation,  scrambled  off  the  hearth-rug 
and  massed  the  bitten  curls  together  in  their  right 
place  on  her  neck. 

"The  servant-girl  had  her  key  in  the  door  as  I 
came  up,  and  directed  me  to  this  room,  telling  me  I 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  61 

was  expected.  I  am  afraid  I  should  have  asked  her  to 
announce  me." 

"  Pardon  me,"  returned  Mrs.  Wilfer.  "  Not  at  all. 
Two  of  my  daughters.  R.  W.,  this  is  the  gentleman 
who  has  taken  our  first-floor.  He  was  so  good  as  to 
make  an  appointment  for  to-night,  when  you  would  be 
at  home." 

A  dark  gentleman.  Thirty  at  the  most.  An  ex- 
pressive, one  might  say  handsome,  face.  A  very  bad 
manner.  In  the  last  degree  constrained,  reserved, 
diffident,  troubled.  His  eyes  were  on  Miss  Bella  for 
an  instant,  and  then  looked  at  the  ground  as  he  ad- 
dressed the  master  of  the  house. 

"  Seeing  that  I  am  quite  satisfied,  Mr.  Wilfer,  with 
the  rooms,  and  with  their  situation,  and  with  their 
price,  I  suppose  a  memorandum  between  us  of  two  or 
three  lines,  and  a  payment  down,  will  bind  the  bar- 
gain ?     I  wish  to  send  in  furniture  without  delay." 

Two  or  three  times  during  this  short  address,  the 
cherub  addressed  had  made  chubby  motions  towards 
a  chair.  The  gentleman  now  took  it,  laying  a  hesi- 
tating hand  on  a  corner  of  the  table,  and  with  another 
hesitating  hand  lifting  the  crown  of  his  hat  to  his  lips, 
and  drawing  it  before  his  mouth. 

"  The  gentleman,  R.  W.,"  said  Mrs.  Wilfer,  "  pro- 
poses to  take  our  apartments  by  the  quarter.  A  quar- 
ter's notice  on  either  side." 

"  Shall  I  mention,  Sir,"  insinuated  the  landlord,  ex- 
pecting it  to  be  received  as  a  matter  of  course,  "  the 
form  of  a  reference  ?" 

"  I  think,"  returned  the  gentleman,  after  a  pause, 
"  that  a  reference  is  not  necessary ;  neither,  to  say  the 


02  OUR    MUTUAL    FRIEND. 

truth,  is  it  convenient,  for  I  am  a  stranger  in  London* 
I  require  no  reference  from  you,  and  perhaps,  there- 
fore, you  will  require  ndne  from  me.  That  will  be 
fair  on  both  sides.  Indeed,  I  show  the  greater  confi- 
dence of  the  two,  for  I  will  pay  in  advance  whatever 
you  please,  and  I  am  going  to  trust  my  furniture  here. 
Whereas,  if  you  were  in  embarrassed  circumstances — 
this  is  merely  supposititious — " 

Conscience  causing  R.  Wilfer  to  color,  Mrs.  Wilfer, 
from  a  corner  (she  always  got  into  stately  corners), 
came  to  the  rescue  with  a  deep-toned  "  Per-fectly." 

"  — Why  then  I — I  might  lose  it." 

"  Well !"  observed  R.  Wilfer,  cheerfully,  "  money 
and  goods  are  certainly  the  best  of  references." 

"  Do  you  think  they  are  the  best,  pa  ?"  asked  Miss 
Bella,  in  a  low  voice,  and  without  looking  over  her 
shoulder  as  she  warmed  her  foot  on  the  fender. 

"  Among  the  best,  my  dear." 

"  I  should  have  thought,  myself,  it  was  so  easy  to 
add  the  usual  kind  of  one,"  said  Bella,  with  a  toss  of 
her  curls. 

The  gentleman  listened  to  her,  with  a  face  of 
marked  attention,  though  he  neither  looked  up  nor 
changed  his  attitude.  He  sat,  still  and  silent,  until 
his  future  landlord  accepted  his  proposals,  and  brought 
writing  materials  to  complete  the  business.  He  sat, 
still  and  silent,  while  the  landlord  wrote. 

When  the  agreement  was  ready  in  duplicate  (the 
landlord  having  worked  at  it  like  some  cherubic  scribe, 
in  what  is  conventionally  called  a  doubtful,  which 
means  a  not  at  all  doubtful,  old  master),  it  was  signed 
by  the  contracting  parties,  Bella  looking  on  as  scorn- 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  63 

ful  witness.  The  contracting  parties  were  R.  Wilfer 
and  John  Rokesmith,  Esquire. 

When  it  came  to  Bella's  turn  to  sign  her  name, 
Mr.  Rokesmith,  who  was  standing,  as  he  had  sat, 
with  a  hesitating  hand  upon  the  table,  looked  at  her 
stealthily,  but  narrowly.  He  looked  at  the  pretty 
figure  bending  down  over  the  paper  and  saying, 
"  Where  am  I  to  go,  pa  ?  Here,  in  this  corner  ?" 
He  looked  at  the  beautiful  brown  hair,  shading  the 
coquettish  face ;  he  looked  at  the  free  dash  of  the 
signature,  which  was  a  bold  one  for  a  woman's ;  and 
then  they  looked  at  one  another. 

"  Much  obliged  to  you,  Miss  Wilfer." 

"  Obliged  ?» 

"  I  have  given  you  so  much  trouble." 

"  Signing  my  name  ?  Yes,  certainly.  But  I  am 
your  landlord's  daughter,  sir." 

As  there  was  nothing  more  to  do  but  pay  eight 
sovereigns  in  earnest  of  the  bargain,  pocket  the  agree- 
ment, appoiut  a  time  for  the  arrival  of  his  furniture 
and  himself,  and  go,  Mr.  Rokesmith  did  that  as  awk- 
wardly as  it  might  be  done,  and  was  escorted  by  his 
landlord  to  the  outer  air.  When  R.  Wilfer  returned, 
candlestick  in  hand,  to  the  bosom  of  his  family,  he 
found  the  bosom  agitated. 

"  Pa,"  said  Bella,  "  we  have  got  a  murderer  for  a 
tenant." 

"  Pa,"  said  Lavinia,  "  we  have  got  a  robber." 

"  To  see  him  unable  for  his  life  to  look  anybody  in 
the  face  !"  said  Bella.  "  There  never  was  such  an 
exhibition." 

"  My  dears,"  said  their  father,  "  he  is  a  diffident 


64  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

gentleman,  and  I  should  say  particularly  so  in  the 
society  of  girls  of  your  age." 

"  Nonsense,  our  age !"  cried  Bella,  impatiently. 
"  What's  that  got  to  do  with  him  ?" 

"  Besides,  we  are  not  of  the  same  age — which 
age  ?"  demanded  Lavinia. 

"Never  you  mind,  Lavvy,"  retorted  Bella;  "you 
wait  till  you  are  of  an  age  to  ask  such  questions.  Pa, 
mark  my  words !  Between  Mr.  Rokesmith  and  me 
there  is  a  natural  antipathy  and  a  deep  distrust ;  and 
something  will  come  of  it!" 

"My  dear,  and  girls,"  said  the  cherub-patriarch, 
"  between  Mr.  Rokesmith  and  me  there  is  a  matter  of 
eight  sovereigns,  and  something  for  supper  shall  come 
of  it,  if  you'll  agree  upon  the  article." 

This  was  a  neat  and  happy  turn  to  give  the  subject, 
treats  being  rare  in  the  Wilfer  household,  where  a 
monotonous  appearance  of  Dutch  cheese  at  ten  o'clock 
in  the  evening  had  been  rather  frequently  commented 
on  by  the  dimpled  shoulders  of  Miss  Bella.  Indeed, 
the  modest  Dutchman  himself  seemed  conscious  of  his 
want  of  variety,  and  generally  came  before  the  family 
in  a  state  of  apologetic  perspiration.  After  some  dis- 
cussion on  the  relative  merits  of  veal  cutlet,  sweet- 
bread, and  lobster,  a  decision  was  pronounced  in  favor 
of  veal-cutlet.  Mrs.  Wilfer  then  solemnly  divested 
herself  of  her  handkerchief  and  gloves,  as  a  prelimina- 
ry sacrifice  to  preparing  the  frying-pan,  and  R.  W. 
himself  went  out  to  purchase  the  viand.  He  soon  re- 
turned bearing  the  same  in  a  fresh  cabbage-leaf,  where 
it  coyly  embraced  a  rasher  of  ham.  Melodious  sounds 
were  not  long  in  rising  from  the  frying-pan  on  the 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  65 

fire,  or  in  seeming,  as  the  fire-light  danced  in  the  mel- 
low halls  of  a  couple  of  full  bottles  on  the  table,  to 
play  appropriate  dance-music. 

The  cloth  was  laid  by  Lavvy.  Bella,  as  the  acknowl- 
edged ornament  of  the  family,  employed  both  her 
hands  in  giving  her  hair  an  additional  wave  while  sit- 
ting in  the  easiest  chair,  and  occasionally  thrqw  in  a 
direction  touching  the  supper:  as,  "Very  brown, 
ma ;"  or,  to  her  sister,  "  Put  the  salt-cellar  straight, 
miss,  and  don't  be  a  dowdy  little  puss." 

"  Meantime  her  father,  chinking  Mr.  Rokesmith's 
gold  as  he  sat  expectant,  between  his  knife  and  fork, 
remarked  that  six  of  those  sovereigns  came  just  in 
time  for  their  landlord,  and  stood  them  in  a  little  pile 
on  the  white  tablecloth  to  look  at. 

"I  hate  our  landlord!"  said  Bella. 

But  observing  a  fall  in  her  father's  face,  she  went 
and  sat  down  by  him  at  the  table,  and  began  touching 
up  his  hair  with  the  handle  of  a  fork.  It  was  one  of 
the  girl's  spoiled  ways,  to  be  always  arranging  the 
family's  hair — perhaps  because  her  own  was  so  pretty, 
and  occupied  so  much  of  her  attention. 

"  You  deserve  to  have  a  house  of  your  own ;  don't 
you,  poor  pa  ?" 

"  I  don't  deserve  it  better  than  another,  my  dear." 

"  At  any  rate  I,  for  one,  want  it  more  than  another," 
said  Bella,  holding  him  by  the  chin,  as  she  stuck  his 
flaxen  hair  on  end,  "  and  I  grudge  this  money  going 
to  the  Monster  that  swallows  up  so  much,  when 
we  all  want — every  thing.  And  if  you  say  (as  you 
want  to  say ;  I  know  you  want  to  say  so,  pa)  '  that's 
neither  reasonable  nor  honest,  Bella,'  then  I  answer, 


66  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

'Maybe  not,  pa — very  likely — but  it's  one  of  the 
consequences  of  being  poor,  and  of  thoroughly  hat- 
ing and  detesting  to  be  poor,  and  that's  my  case.' 
Now  you  look  lovely,  pa;  why  don't  you  always  wear 
your  hair  like  that  ?  And  here's  the  cutlet !  If  it 
isn't  very  brown,  ma,  I  can't  eat  it,  and  must  have  a 
bit  put  back  to  be  done  expressly." 

However,  as  it  was  brown  even  to  Bella's  taste,  the 
young  lady  graciously  partook  of  it  without  recon- 
signment  to  the  frying-pan,  and  also,  in  due  course,  of 
the  contents  of  the  two  bottles;  whereof  one  held 
Scotch  ale  and  the  other  rum.  The  latter  perfume, 
with  the  fostering  aid  of  boiling  water  and  lemon-peel, 
diffused  itself  throughout  the  room,  and  became  so 
highly  concentrated  around  the  warm  fireside,  that 
the  wind  passing  over  the  house-roof  must  have  rushed 
off  charged  with  a  delicious  whiff  of  it,  after  buzzing 
like  a  great  bee  at  that  particular  chimney-pot. 

"  Pa,"  said  Bella,  sipping  the  fragrant  mixture  and 
warming  her  favorite  ankle ;  "  when  old  Mr.  Harmon 
made  such  a  fool  of  me  (not  to  mention  himself,  as  he 
is  dead),  what  do  you  suppose  he  did  it  for  ?" 

"  Impossible  to  say,  my  dear.  As  I  have  told  you 
times  out  of  number  since  his  will  was  brought  to 
light,  I  doubt  if  I  ever  exchanged  a  hundred  words 
with  the  old  gentleman.  If  it  was  his  whim  to  sur- 
prise us,  his  whim  succeeded.  For  he  certainly 
did  it." 

"  And  I  was  stamping  my  foot  and  screaming,  when 
he  first  took  notice  of  me ;  was  I  ?"  said  Bella,  con- 
templating the  ankle  before  mentioned. 

"  You  were  stamping  your  little  foot,  my  dear,  and 


OUK   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  67 

screaming  with  your  little  voice,  and  laying  into  me 
with  your  little  bonnet,  which  you  had  snatched  off  for 
the  purpose,"  returned  her  father,  as  if  the  remembrance 
gave  a  relish  to  the  rum ;  "  you  were  doing  this  one 
Sunday  morning  when  I  took  you  out,  because  I  didn't 
go  the  exact  way  you  wanted,  when  the  old  gentleman, 
sitting  on  a  seat  near,  said  :  '  That's  a  nice  girl ;  that's 
a  very  nice  girl ;  a  promising  girl !'  And  so  you  were, 
my  dear." 

"And  then  he  asked  my  name,  did  he,  pa  ?" 

"  Then  he  asked  your  name,  my  dear,  and  mine ; 
and  on  other  Sunday  mornings,  when  we  walked  his 
way,  we  saw  him  again,  and — and  really  that's  all." 

As  that  was  all  the  rum  and  water  too,  or,  in  other 
words,  as  R.  W.  delicately  signified  that  his  glass  was 
empty,  by  throwing  back  his  head  and  standing  the 
glass  upside  down  on  his  nose  and  upper  lip,  it  might 
have  been  charitable  in  Mrs.  Wilfer  to  suggest  replen- 
ishment. But  that  heroine  briefly  suggesting  "  bed- 
time" instead,  the  bottles  were  put  away,  and  the 
family  retired;  she  cherubically  escorted,  like  some 
severe  saint  in  a  painting,  or  merely  human  matron 
allegorically  treated. 

"And  by  this  time  to-morrow,"  said  Lavinia  when 
the  two  girls  were  alone  in  their  room,  "  we  shall  have 
Mr.  Rokesmith  here,  and  shall  be  expecting  to  have 
our  throats  cut." 

"  You  needn't  stand  between  me  and  the  candle, 
for  all  that,"  retorted  Bella.  "This  is  another  of 
the  consequences  of  being  poor !  The  idea  of  a  girl 
with  a  really  fine  head  of  hair,  having  to  do  it  by 
one  flat  candle  and  a  few  inches  of  looking-glass !" 


68  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

"  You  caught  George  Sampson  with  it,  Bella,  bad 
as  your  means  of  dressing  it  are." 

"You  low  little  thing.  Caught  George  Sampson 
with  it !  Don't  talk  about  catching  people,  miss,  till 
your  own  time  for  catching — as  you  call  it — comes." 

"  Perhaps  it  has  come,"  muttered  Lavvy,  with  a  toss 
of  her  head. 

"  What  did  you  say  ?"  asked  Bella,  very  sharply. 
"  What  did  you  say,  miss  ?" 

Lavvy  declining  equally  to  repeat  or  to  explain,  Bella 
gradually  lapsed  over  her  hair-dressing  into  a  soliloquy 
on  the  miseries  of  being  poor,  as  exemplified  in  having 
nothing  to  put  on,  nothing  to  go  out  in,  nothing  to 
dress  by,  only  a  nasty  box  to  dress  at  instead  of  a 
commodious  dressing-table,  and  being  obliged  to  take 
in  suspicious  lodgers.  On  the  last  grievance  as  her 
climax  she  laid  great  stress — and  might  have  laid 
greater,  had  she  known  that  if  Mr.  Julius  Handford 
had  a  twin  brother  upon  earth,  Mr.  John  Rokesmith 
was  the  man. 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  69 


CHAPTER  V. 

BOFFIN'S     B  0  WER. 

Oyer  against  a  London  house,  a  corner  house  not  far 
from  Cavendish  Square,  a  man  with  a  wooden  leg  had  sat 
for  some  years,  with  his  remaining  foot  in  a  basket  in 
cold  weather,  picking  up  a  living  in  this  wise  : — Every 
morning  at  eight  o'clock  he  stumped  to  the  corner,  carry- 
ing a  chair,  a  clothes-horse,  a  pair  of  trestles,  a  board,  a 
basket,  and  an  umbrella,  all  strapped  together.  Separat- 
ing these,  the  board  and  trestles  became  a  counter,  the 
basket  supplied  the  few  small  lots  of  fruit  and  sweets  that 
he  offered  fcr  sale  upon  it  and  became  a  foot-warmer,  the 
unfolded  clothes-horse  displayed  a  choice  collection  of 
half-penny  ballads  and  became  a  screen,  and  the  stool 
planted  within  it  became  his  post  for  the  rest  of  the  day. 
All  weathers  saw  the  man  at  the  post.  This  is  to  be  ac- 
cepted in  a  double  sense,  for  he  contrived  a  back  to  his 
wooden  stool  by  placing  it  against  the  lamp-post.  When 
the  weather  was  wet,  he  put  up  his  umbrella  over  his 
stock  in  trade,  not  over  himself  ;  when  the  weather  was 
dry,  he  furled  that  faded  article,  tied  it  round  with  a 
piece  of  yarn,  and  laid  it  cross-wise  under  the  trestles  ; 
where  it  looked  like  an  unwholesomely-forced  lettuce 
that  had  lost  in  color  and  crispness  what  it  had  gained  in 
size. 

I 


70  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

He  had  established  his  right  to  the  corner,  by  imper- 
ceptible prescription.  *  He  had  never  varied  his  ground  an 
inch,  but  had  in  the  beginning  diffidently  taken  the  cor- 
ner upon  which  the  side  of  the  house  gave.  A  howling 
corner  in  the  winter  time,  a  dusty  corner  in  the  summer 
time,  an  undesirable  corner  at  the  best  of  times.  Shelter- 
less fragments  of  straw  and  paper  got  up  revolving  storms 
there,  when  the  main  street  was  at  peace  ;  and  the  water- 
cart,  as  if  it  were  drunk  or  short-sighted,  came  blundering 
and  jolting  round  it,  making  it  muddy  when  all  else  was 
clean. 

On  the  front  of  his  sale-board  hung  a  little  placard, 
like  a  kettle-holder,  bearing  the  inscription  in  his  own 
small  text  : 


Errands  gone 

On  icith  fi, 

Delity  By 

Ladies  and  Gentlemen 

I  remain 

Your  Humble  Servt: 

Silas  Wcgg. 


He  had  not  only  settled  it  with  himself  in  course  of  time, 
that  he  was  errand-goer  by  appointment  to  the  house  at 
the  corner  (though  he  received  such  commissions  not  half 
a  dozen  times  in  a  year,  and  then  only  as  some  servant's 
deputy),  but  also  that  he  was  one  of  the  house's  retainers 
and  owed  vassalage  to  it  and  was  bound  to  leal  and  loyal 
interest  in  it.  For  this  reason  he  always  spoke  of  it  as 
11  Our  House,"  and,  though  his  knowledge  of  its  affairs 
was  most  speculative  and  all  wrong,  claimed  to  be  in  its 
confidence.  On  similar  grounds  he  never  beheld  an  in- 
mate at  any  one  of  its  windows  but  he  touched  his  hat 
Yet,  he  knew  so  little  about  the  inmates  that  he  gave 


OUR  MUTUAL   FRIEND.  71 

them  names  of  his  own  invention  :  as  "  Miss  Eliza- 
beth," "Master  George,"  "Aunt  Jane,"  "Uncle  Parker" 
— having  no  authority  whatever  for  any  such  designa- 
tions, but  particularly  the  last — to  which,  as  a  natural 
consequence,  he  stuck  with  great  obstinacy. 

Over  the  house  itself  he  exercised  the  same  imaginary 
power  as  over  its  inhabitants  and  their  affairs.  He  had 
never  been  in  it,  the  length  of  a  piece  of  fat  black  water- 
pipe  which  trailed  itself  over  the  area-door  into  a  damp 
stone  passage,  and  had  rather  the  air  of  a  leech  on  the 
house  that  had  "  taken"  wonderfully  ;  but  this  was  no 
impediment  to  his  arranging  it  according  to  a.  plan  of  his 
own.  It  was  a  great  dingy  house  with  a  quantity  of  dim 
side  window  and  blank  back  premise?,  and  it  cost  his 
mind  a  world  of  trouble  so  to  lay  it  out  as  to  account 
for  everything  in  its  external  appearance.  But,  this  once 
done,  was  quite  satisfactory,  and  he  rested  persuaded 
that  he  knew  his  way  about  the  house  blindfold  ;  from 
the  barred  garrets  in  the  high  roof,  to  the  two  iron  ex- 
tinguishers before  the  ^main  door  —  which  seemed  to 
request  all  lively  visitors  to  have  the  kindness  to  put 
themselves  out  before  entering. 

Assuredly,  this  stall  of  Silas  Wegg's  was  the  hardest 
little  stall  of  all  the  sterile  little  stalls  in  London.  It 
gave  you  the  face-ache  to  look  at  his  apples,  the  stomach- 
ache to  look  at  his  oranges,  and  the  tooth-ache  to  look  at 
his  nuts.  Of  the  latter*commodity  he  had  always  a  grim 
little  heap,  on  which  lay  a  little  wooden  measure  which 
had  no  discernible  inside,  and  was  considered  to  represent 
the  penn'orth  appointed  by  Magna  Charta.  Whether 
from  too  much  east  wind  or  no — it  was  an  easterly  cor- 
ner— the  stall,  the  stock,  and  the  keeper,  were  all  as  dry 


Y2  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

as  the  Desert.  Wegg  was  a  knotty  man,  and  a  close- 
grained,  with  a  face  carved  out  of  very  hard  material, 
that  had  just  as  much  play  of  expression  as  a  watchman's 
rattle.  When  he  laughed,  certain  jerks  occurred  in  it, 
and  the  rattle  sprung.  Sooth  to  say,  he  was  so  wooden 
a  man  that  he  seemed  to  have  taken  his  wooden  leg 
naturally,  and  rather  suggested  to  the  fanciful  observer, 
that  he  might  be  expected — if  his  development  received 
no  untimely  check — to  be  completely  set  up  with  a  pair 
of  wooden  legs  in  about  six  months. 

Mr.  Wegg  was  an  observant  person,  or,  as  he  himself 
said,  "  took  a  powerful  sight  of  notice."  He  saluted  all 
his  regular  passers-by  every  day,  as  he  sat  on  his  stool 
backed  up  by  the  lamp-post  ;  and  on  the  adaptable  cha- 
racter of  these  salutes  he  greatly  plumed  himself.  Thus, 
to  the  rector,  he  addressed  a  bow,  compounded  of  lay 
deference,  and  a  slight  touch  of  the  shady  preliminary 
meditation  at  a  church  ;  to  the  doctor,  a  confidential 
bow,  as  to  a  gentleman  whose  acquaintance  with  his 
inside  he  begged  re,  pectfully  to  acknowledge  ;  before 
the  Quality  he  delighted  to  abase  himself ;  and  for  Uncle 
Parker,  who  was  in  the  army  (at  least,  so  he  had  settled 
it),  he  put  his  open  hand  to  the  side  of  his  hat,  in  a  mili- 
tary manner  which  that  angry-eyed,  buttoned-up,  inflam- 
matory-faced old  gentleman  appeared  but  imperfectly  to 
appreciate. 

The  only  article  in  which  Silas  dealt  that  was  not  hard 
was  gingerbread.  On  a  certain  day,  some  wretched 
infant  having  purchased  the  damp  gingerbread  horse 
(fearfully  out  of  condition),  and  the  adhesive  bird-cage, 
which  had  been  exposed  for  the  day's  sale,  he  had  taken 
a  tin  box  from  under  his  stool  to  produce  a  relay  of  those 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  73 

dreadful  specimen?:,  and  was  going  to  look  in  at  the  lid, 
when  he  said  to  khnseif,  pausing,  "  Oh  !  here  you  are 
again  !" 

The  words  referred  to  a  broad,  round-shouldered,  one- 
sided old  fellow  in  mourning,  coming  comically  ambling 
toward  the  corner,  dressed  in  a  pea  over-coat,  and  carry- 
ing a  large  stick.  He  wore  thick  shoes,  and  thick  leather 
gaiters,  and  thick  gloves  like  a  hedger's.  Both  as  to  his 
dress  and  to  himself  he  was  of  an  overlapping  rhinoceros 
build,  with  folds  in  his  cheeks,  and  his  forehead,  and  his 
eyelids,  and  his  lips,  and  his  ears  ;  but  with  bright, 
eager,  childishly-inquiring,  gray  eyes,  under  his  ragged 
eyebrows  and  broad-brimmed  hat.  A  very  odd-looking 
old  fellow  altogether. 

"  Here  you  are  again/'  repeated  Mr.  Wegg,  musingly. 
"  And  what  are  you  now  ?  Are  you  in  the  Funns,  or 
where  are  you  ?  Have  you  lately  come  to  settle  in  this 
neighborhood,  or  do  you  own  to  another  neighborhood  ? 
Are  you  in  independent  circumstances,  or  is  it  wasting 
the  motions  of  a  bow  on  you  ?  Come  !  I'll  speculate. 
I'll  invest  a  bow  in  you  !" 

Which  Mr.  Wegg,  having  replaced  his  tin  box,  ac- 
cordingly did,  as  he  rose  to  bait  his  gingerbread  trap  for 
some  other  devoted  infant.  The  salute  was  acknowledged 
with  : 

"  Morning,  Sir  !     Morning  !     Morning  !" 

("  Calls  me  Sir  !"  said  Mr.  Wegg  to  himself.  "  He 
won't  answer.     A  bow  gone  !" 

"  Morning,  morning,  morning." 

"  Appears  to  be  rather  a  'arty  old  cock,  too,"  said  Mr. 
Wegg,  as  before.     "  Good  morning  to  you,  Sir." 

"  Do  you  remember  me,  then  ?"  asked  his  new  acquain- 


74  OUR  MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

tance,  stopping  in  his  amble,  one-sidecl,  before  the  stall, 
and  speaking  in  a  pouncing  way,  though  with  great  good 
humor. 

"  I  have  noticed  you  go  past  our  house,  Sir,  several 
times  in  the  course  of  the  last  week  or  so." 

"  Our  house,"  repeated  the  other.     "  Meaning —  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Wegg,  nodding,  as  the  other  pointed 
the  clumsy  fore-finger  of  his  right  glove  at  the  corner 
house. 

"Oh  !  Now  what,"  pursued  the  old  fellow,  in  an  in- 
quisitive manner,  carrying  his  knotted  stick  in  his  left 
arm  as  if  it  were  a  baby,  "  what  do  they  allow  you 
now  ?" 

11  It's  job  work  that  I  do  for  our  house,"  returned  Silas 
dryly,  and  with  reticence  ;  "  it's  not  yet  brought  to  an 
exact  allowance." 

"  Oh !  it's  not  yet  brought  to  an  exact  allowance  ? 
No  !  it's  not  yet  brought  to  an  exact  allowance.  Oh  ! 
morning,  morning,  morning." 

"  Appears  to  be  rather  a  cracked  old  cock,"  thought 
Silas,  qualifying  his  former  good  opinion,  as  the  other 
ambled  off.     But,  in  a  moment  he  was  back  again,  with 
the  question  : 
.  "  How  did  you  get  your  wooden  leg  ?" 

Mr.  Wegg  replied  (tartly  to  this  personal  inquiry) 
"  In  an  accident." 

"  Do  you  like  it  ?" 

11  Well,  I  haven't  got  to  keep  it  warm,"  Mr.  Wegg 
made  answer,  in  a  sort  of  desperation  occasioned  by  the 
singularity  of  the  question. 

"  He  hasn't,"  repeated  the  other  to  his  knotted  stick, 
as  he  gave  it  a  hug  ;   "he  hasn't  got— ha  ! — ha !— to 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND.  75 

keep  it  warm  !  Did  you  ever  hear  of  the  name  of 
Boffin  ?" 

"  No,"  said  Mr.  Wegg,  who  was  growing  restive  under 
this  examination.  "  I  never  did  hear  of  the  name  of 
Boffin." 

"Do  you  like  it?" 

"  Why,  no,"  retorted  Mr.  Wegg,  again  approaching 
desperation  ;  "I  can't  say  I  do." 

"  Why  don't  you  like  it  ?" 

"  I  don't  know  why  I  don't,"  retorted  Mr.  Wegg, 
approaching  frenzy,  "  but  I  don't  at  all." 

11  Now,  I'll  tell  you  something  that'll  make  you  sorry 
for  that,"  said  the  stranger,  smiling.  "  My  name's 
Boffin." 

"  I  can't  help  it,"  returned  Mr.  Wegg.  Implying  in 
his  manner  the  offensive  addition,  "and  if  I  could,  I 
wouldn't." 

"  But  there's  another  chance  for  you,"  said  Mr.  Boffin, 
smiling  still.  "  Do  you  like  the  name  of  Nicodenius  ? 
Think  it  over.     Nick,  or  Noddy  ?" 

"  It  is  not,  Sir,"  Mr.  Wegg  rejoined,  as  he  sat  down 
on  his  stool  with  an  air  of  gentle  resignation,  combined 
with  melancholy  candor  ;  "  it  is  not  a  name  as  I  could 
wish  any  one  that  I  had  a  respect  for  to  call  me  by  ;  but 
there  may  be  persons  that  would  not  view  it  with  the 
same  objections. — I  don't  know  why,"  Mr.  Wegg  added, 
anticipating  another  question. 

11  Noddy  Boffin,"  said  that  gentleman.  "Noddy.  That's 
my  name.  Noddy — or  Nick — Boffin.  What's  your  name  ?" 

"  Silas  Wegg. — I  don't,"  said  Mr.  Wegg,  bestirring 
himself  to  take  the  same  precaution  as  before,  "  I  don't 
know  why  Silas,  and  I  don't  know  why  Wegg." 


76  OUK   MUTUAL  FRIEND. 

"Now,  Wegg,"  said  Mr.  Boffin,  hugging  his  stick 
closer,  "  I  want  to  make  a  sort  of  offer  to  you.  Do  you 
remember  when  you  first  see  me  ?" 

The  wooden  Wegg  looked  at  him  with  a  meditative 
eye,  and  also  with  a  softened  air,  as  descrying  possibility 
of  profit.  "  Let  me  think.  I  ain't  quite  sure,  and  yet  I 
generally  take  a  powerful  sight  of  notice,  too.  Was  it 
on  a  Monday  morning,  when  the  butcher-boy  had  been  to 
our  house  for  orders,  and  bought  a  ballad  of  me,  which, 
being  unacquainted  with  the  tune,  I  run  it  over  to  him  ?" 

"  Right,  Wegg,  right ;  but  he  bought  more  than  one." 

"  Yes,  to  be  sure,  Sir  ;  he  bought  several  ;  and  wish- 
ing to  lay  out  his  money  to  the  best,  he  took  my  opinion 
to  guide  his  choice,  and  we  went  over  the  collection 
together.  To  be  sure  we  did.  Here  was  him,  as  it 
might  be,  and  here  was  myself,  as  it  might  be,  and  there 
was  you,  Mr.  Boffin,  as  you  identically  are,  with  your 
self-same  stick  under  your  very  same  arm,  and  your  very 
same  back  towards  us.  To — be — sure  I"  added  Mr. 
Wegg,  looking  a  little  round  Mr.  Boffin  to  take  him  in 
the  rear,  and  identify  this  last  extraordinary  coincidence, 
"your  wery  self-same  back." 

"  What  do  you  think  I  was  doing,  Wegg  ?" 

"  I  should  judge,  Sir,  that  you  might  be  glancing  your 
eye  down  the  street." 

11  No,  Wegg.     I  was  a-listening." 

11  Was  you,  indeed  ?"  said  Mr.  Wegg,  dubiously. 

"  Not  in  a  dishonorable  way,  Wegg,  because  you  was 
singing  to  the  butcher  ;  and  you  wouldn't  sing  secrets  to 
a  butcher  in  the  street,  you  know." 

"  It  never  happened  that  I  did  so  yet,  to  the  best  of 
my  remembrance,"  said  Mr.  Wegg,  cautiously.     "  But  I 


OUR  MUTUAL   FRIEND.  77 

might  do  it.  A  man  can't  say  what  he  might  wish  to  do 
some  day  or  another."  (This,  not  to  release  any  little 
advantage  he  might  derive  from  Mr.  Boffin's  avowal.) 

11  Well,"  repeated  Boffin,  I  was  a-listening  to  you  and 
to  him.  And  what  do  you — you  haven't  got  another 
stool,  have  you  ?     I'm  rather  thick  in  my  breath." 

" 1  haven't  got  another,  but  you're  welcome  to  this," 
said  Wegg,  resigning  it.     "  It's  a  treat  to  me  to  stand." 

"  Lard  !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Boffin,  in  a  tone  of  great 
enjoyment,  as  he  settled  himself  down,  still  nursing  his 
stick  like  a  baby,  "  it's  a  pleasant  place  this  !  And  then 
to  be  shut  in  on  each  side,  with  these  ballads,  like  so 
many  book-leaf  blinkers  !     Why,  it's  delightful  !" 

"  If  I  am  not  mistaken,  Sir,"  Mr.  Wegg  delicately 
hinted,  resting  a  hand  on  his  stall,  and  bending  over  the 
discursive  Boffin,  "  you  alluded  to  some  offer  or  another 
that  was  in  your  mind." 

"  I'm  coming  to  it  !  All  right.  I'm  coming  to  it  ! 
I  was  going  to  say  that  when  I  listened  that  morning,  I 
listened  with  hadmiration  amounting  to  haw.  I  thought 
to  myself,  '  Here's  a  man  with  a  wooden  leg — a  literary 
man  with — ' " 

"  N — not  exactly  so,  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Wegg. 

"  Why,  you  know  every  one  of  these  songs  by  name 
and  by  tune,  and  if  you  want  to  read  or  to  sing  any  one  on 
'em  off  straight,  you've  only  to  whip  on  your  spectacles 
nd  do  it  !"  cried  Mr.  Boffin.     "  I  see  you  at  it  !" 

"  Well,  Sir,"  returned  Mr.  Wegg,  with  a  conscious  in- 
clination of  the  head  ;  "  we'll  say  literary,  then." 

"  '  A  literary  man — with  a  wooden  leg — and  all  Print 
is  open  to  him  !'  That's  what  I  thought  to  myself,  that 
morning,"  pursued  Mr.  Boffin,  leaning  forward  to  describe, 

4* 


78  OUR  MTJTUAL   FRIEND. 

uncramped  by  the  clothes-horse,  as  large  an  arc  as  his 
right  arm  could  make  ;  "'all  Print  is  open  to  him  1' 
And  it  is,  ain't  it  ?" 

"  Why,  truly,  Sir,"  Mr.  Wegg  admitted,  with  modesty  ; 
"I  believe  you  couldn't  show  me  the  piece  of  English 
print  that  I  wouldn't  be  equal  to  collaring  and  throwing." 

"  On  the  spot  ?"  said  Mr.  Boffin. 

"  On  the  spot." 

"  I  know'd  it  I  Then  consider  this.  Here  am  I,  a 
man  without  a  wooden  leg,  and  yet  all  print  is  shut  to 
me." 

"  Indeed,  sir  ?"  Mr.  Wegg  returned  with  increasing 
self-complacency.     "  Education  neglected  ?" 

u  Neg — lected  !"  repeated  Boffin  with  emphasis.  "  That 
ain't  no  word  for  it.  I  don't  mean  to  say  but  what  if  you 
showed  me  a  B,  I  could  so  far  give  you  change  for  it,  as  to 
answer  Boffin." 

"  Come,  come,  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Wegg,  throwing  in  a 
little  encouragement,  "  that's  something  too." 

"  It's  something,"  answered  Mr.  Boffin,  "  but  I'll  take 
my  oath  it  ain't  much." 

"  Perhaps  it's  not  as  much  as  could  be  wished  by  an  in- 
quiring mind,  Sir,"  Mr.  Wegg  admitted. 

"  Now,  look  here.  I'm  retired  from  business.  Me  and 
Mrs.  Boffin — Henerietty  Boffin — which  her  father's  name 
was  Henery,  and  her  mother's  name  was  Hetty,  and  so 
you  get  it — we  live  on  a  compittance,  under  the  will  of  a 
diseased  governor." 

"  Gentleman  dead,  Sir  ?» 

"  Man  alive,  don't  I  tell  you  ?  A  diseased  governor  ? 
Now,  it's  too  late  for  me  to  begin  shoveling  and  shifting 
at  alpbabeds  and  grammar-books.     I'm  getting  to  be  a 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  79 

old  bird,  and  I  want  to  take  it  easy.  But  I  want  some 
reading — some  fine  bold  reading,  some  splendid  book  in  a 
gorging  Lord  Mayor's-Show  of  wollumes n  (probably 
meaning  gorgeous,  but  misled  by  association  of  ideas); 
"  as'll  reach  right  down  your  pint  of  view,  and  take  time 
to  go  by  you.  How  can  I  get  that  reading,  Wegg  ? 
By,"  tapping  him  on  the  breast  with  the  head  of  his  thick 
stick,  "  paying  a  man  truly  qualified  to  do  it,  so  much  an 
hour  (say  twopence)  to  come  and  do  it." 

"  Hem  I  Flattered,  Sir,  I  am  sure,"  said  Wegg, 
beginning  to  regard  himself  in  quite  a  new  light.  "  Hem  ! 
This  is  the  offer  you  mentioned,  Sir  ?" 

"  Yes.     Do  you  like  it  ?" 

u  I  am  considering  of  it,  Mr.  Boffin." 

"  I  don't,"  said  Boffin,  in  a  free-handedmanner,  "  want 
to  tie  a  literary  man — with  a  wooden  leg — clown  too 
tight.  A  half-penny  an  hour  shan't  part  us.  The  hours 
are  your  own  to  choose,  after  you've  done  for  the  day  with 
your  house  here.  I  live  over  Maiden  Lane  way — out 
Holloway  direction — and  you've  only  got  to  go  East-and- 
by-North  when  you  have  fiuished  here,  and  you're  there. 
Twopence  half-penny  an  hour,"  said  Boffin,  taking  a  piece 
of  chalk  from  his  pocket  and  getting  off  the  stool  to  work 
the  sum  on  the  top  of  it  in  his  own  way  ;  "  two  long'uns 
and  a  short'un — twopence  half-penny  ;  two  short'uns  is  a 
long'un  and  two  long'uns  is  four  long'uns — making  five 
long'uns  ;  six  nights  a  week  at  five  long'uns  a  night," 
scoring  them  all  down  separately,  "  and  you  mount  up  to 
thirty  long'uns.     A  round'un  !     Half  a  crown  !" 

Pointing  to  this  result  as  a  large  and  satisfactory  one, 
Mr.  Boffin  smeared  it  out  with  his  moistened  glove,  and 
gat  down  on  the  remains. 


80  OTJE   MUTUAL   FKIEND. 

"  Half  a   crown,"   said  Wegg,   meditating.      "  Yes 
(It  ain't  much,  Sir.)     Half  a  crown." 

"  Per  week,  you  know." 

"  Per  week.  Yes.  As  to  the  amount  of  strain  upon 
the  intellect  now.  Was  you  thinking  at  all  of  poetry  ?" 
Mr.  Wegg  inquired,  musing. 

"  Would  it  come  dearer  ?"  Mr.  Boffin  asked. 

"  It  would  come  dearer,"  Mr.  Wegg  returned.  "  For 
when  a  person  comes  to  grind  off  poetry  night  after  night, 
it  is  but  right  he  should  expect  to  be  paid  for  its  weaken- 
ing effect  on  his  mind." 

"  To  tell  you  the  truth,  Wegg,"  said  Boffin,  "I  wasn't 
thinking  of  poetry,  except  in  so  far  as  this  : — If  you  was 
to  happen  now  and  then  to  feel  yourself  in  the  mind  to  tip 
me  and  Mrs.  Boffin  one  of  your  ballads,  why  then  we 
should  drop  into  poetry." 

"  I  follow  you,  Sir,"  said  Wegg.  "  But  not  being  a 
regular  musical  professional,  I  should  be  loath  to  engage 
myself  for  that  ;  and  therefore  when  I  dropped  into 
poetry,  I  should  ask  to  be  considered  so  fur,  in  the  light  of 
a  friend." 

At  this,  Mr.  Boffin's  eyes  sparkled,  and  he  shook  Silas 
earnestly  by  the  hand  :  protesting  that  it  was  more  than 
he  could  have  asked,  and  that  he  took  it  very  kindly 
indeed. 

"What  do  you  think  of  the  terms,  Wegg?"  Mr. 
Boffin  then  demanded,  with  unconcealed  anxiety. 

Silas,  who  had  stimulated  this  anxiety  by  his  hard  re- 
serve of  manner,  and  who  had  begun  to  understand  his 
man  very  well,  replied  with  an  air  ;  as  if  he  were  saying 
something  extraordinarily  generous  and  great  : 

"Mr.  Boffin,  I  never  bargain." 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  81 

"  So  I  should  have  thought  of  you  !"  said  Mr.  Boffin, 
admiringly. 

"  No,  Sir.  I  never  did  'aggie  and  I  never  will  'aggie. 
Consequently  I  meet  you  at  once,  free  and  fair,  with — 
Done,  for  double  the  money  !" 

Mr.  Boffin  seemed  a  little  unprepared  for  this  conclu- 
sion, but  assented,  with  the  remark,  "  You  know  better 
what  it  ought  to  be  than  I  do,  Wegg,"  and  again  shook 
hands  with  him  upon  it. 

"  Could  you  begin  to-night,  Wegg  ?"  he  then  de- 
manded. 

"  Yes,  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Wegg,  careful  to  leave  all  the 
eagerness  to  him.  "I  see  no  difficulty  if  you  wish  it. 
You  are  provided  with  the  needful  implement — a  book, 
Sir  V 

"Bought  him  at  a  sale,"  said  Mr.  Boffin.  "Eight 
wollumes.  Red  and  gold.  Purple  ribbon  in  every  wol- 
lume,  to  keep  the  place  where  you  leave  off.  Do  you 
know  him  ?" 

"  The  book's  name,  Sir  ?"  inquired  Silas. 

"  I  thought  you  might  have  know'd  him  without  it," 
said  Mr.  Boffin  slightly  disappointed.  "  His  name  is 
Decline-And-Fall-Off-The-Rooshan-Empire."  (Mr.  Boffin 
went  over  these  stones  slowly,  and  with  much  caution.) 

"  Ay  indeed  1"  said  Mr.  Wegg,  nodding  his  head  with 
an  air  of  friendly  recognition. 

"  You  know  him,  Wegg  ?" 

"  I  haven't  been  not  to  say  right  slap  through  him, 
very  lately,"  Mr.  Wegg  made  answer,  "  having  been 
otherways  employed,  Mr.  Boffin.  But  know  him  ?  Old 
familiar  declining  and  falling  off  the  Rooshan  ?  Rather, 
Sir  !     Ever  since  I  was  not  so  high  as  your  stick.     Ever 


82  OUR  MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

since  my  eldest  brother  left  our  cottage  to  enlist  into  the 
army.  On  which  occasion,  as  the  ballad  that  was  made 
about  it  describes  : 

"  Beside  that  cottage  door,  Mr.  Boffin, 

A  girl  was  on  her  knees  ; 
She  held  aloft  a  snowy  scarf,  Sir, 

Which  (my  eldest  brother  noticed)  fluttered  in  the  breeze. 
She  breathed  a  prayer  for  him,  Mr.  Boffin, 

A  prayer  he  could  not  hear, 
And  my  eldest  brother  lean'd  upon  his  sword,  Mr.  Boffin, 

And  wiped  away  a  tear." 

Much  impressed  by  this  family  circumstance,  and  also 
by  the  friendly  disposition  of  Mr.  Wegg,  as  exemplified  in 
his  so  soon  dropping  into  poetry,  Mr.  Boffin  again  shook 
hands  with  that  ligneous  sharper,  and  besought  him  to 
name  his  hour.     Mr.  Wegg  named  eight. 

"  Where  I  live,"  said  Mr.  Boffin,  "  is  called  the  Bower. 
Boffin's  Bower  is  the  name  Mrs.  Boffin  christened  it  when 
we  come  into  it  as  a  property.  If  you  should  meet  with 
any  body  that  don't  know  it  by  that  name  (which  hardly 
any  body  does),  when  you've  got  nigh  upon  about  a  odd 
mile,  or  say  and  a  quarter  if  you  like,  up  Maiden  Lane, 
Battle  Bridge,  ask  for  Harmony  Jail,  and  you'll  be  put  right. 
I  shall  expect  you,  Wegg,"  said  Mr.  Boffin,  clapping  him  on 
the  shoulder  with  the  greatest  enthusiasm,  "  most  joy- 
fully. I  shall  have  no  peace  or  patience  till  you  come. 
Print  is  now  opening  ahead  of  me.  This  night,  a  literary 
man — with  a  wooden  leg — "  he  bestowed'  an  admiring 
look  upon  that  decoration,  as  if  it  greatly  enhanced  the 
relish  of  Mr.  Wegg's  attainments — "  will  begin  to  lead 
me  a  new  life  !  My  fist  again,  Wegg.  Morning,  morn- 
ing, morning  !" 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  83 

Left  alone  at  his  stall  as  the  other  ambled  off,  Mr. 
Wegg  subsided  into  his  screen,  produced  a  small  pocket- 
handkerchief  of  a  penitentially-scrubbmg  character,  and 
took  himself  by  the  nose  with  a  thoughtful  aspect.  Also, 
while  he  still  grasped  that  feature,  he  directed  several 
thoughtful  looks  down  the  street,  after  the  retiring  figure 
of  Mr.  Boffin.  But  profound  gravity  sat  enthroned  on 
Wegg's  countenance.  For,  while  he  considered  within 
himself  that  this  was  an  old  fellow  of  rare  simplicity,  that 
this  was  an  opportunity  to  be  improved,  and  that  here 
might  be  money  to  be  got  beyond  present  calculation,  still 
he  compromised  himself  by  no  admission  that  his  new  en- 
gagement was  at  all  out  of  his  way,  or  involved  the  least 
element  of  the  ridiculous.  Mr.  Wegg  would  even  have 
picked  a  handsome  quarrel  with  any  one  who  should  have 
challenged  his  deep  acquaintance  with  those  aforesaid 
eight  volumes  of  Decline  and  Fall.  His  gravity  was  un- 
usual, portentous,  and  immeasurable,  not  because  he  ad- 
mitted any  doubt  of  himself,  but  because  he  perceived  it 
necessary  to  forestall  any  doubt  of  himself  in  others. 
And  herein  he  ranged  with  that  very  numerous  class  of 
impostors,  who  are  quite  as  determined  to  keep  up  ap- 
pearances to  themselves,  as  to  their  neighbors. 

A  certain  loftiness,  likewise,  took  possession  of  Mr. 
Wegg  ;  a  condescending  sense  of  being  in  request  as  an 
official  expounder  of  mysteries.  It  did  not  move  hhn  to 
commercial  greatness,  but  rather  to  littleness,  insomuch 
that  if  it  had  been  within  the  possibilities  of  things  for 
the  wooden  measure  to  hold  fewer  nuts  than  usual,  it 
would  have  done  so  that  day.  But,  when  night  came, 
and  with  her  veiled  eyes  beheld  hini  stumping  toward 
Boffin's  Bower  he  was  elated  too. 


84  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

The  Bower  was  as  difficult  to  find  as  Fair  Rosamond's 
without  the  clew.  Mr.  Wegg,  having  reached  the  quar- 
ter indicated,  inquired  for  the  Bower  half  a  dozen  times 
without  the  least  success,  until  he  remembered  to  ask  for 
Harmony  Jail.  This  occasioned  a  quick  change  in  the 
(spirits  of  a  hoarse  gentleman  and  a  donkey,  whom  he  had 
much  perplexed. 

"  Why,  yer  mean  Old  Harmon's,  do  yer  ?"  said  the 
hoarse  gentleman,  who  was  driving  his  donkey  in  a  truck, 
with  a  carrot  for  a  Whip.  "  Why  didn't  yer  never  say 
so  ?     Eddard  and  me  is  a  goin'  by  him  I     Jump  in." 

Mr.  Wegg  complied,  and  the  hoarse  gentleman  invited 
his  attention  to  the  third  person  in  company,  thus  : 

"  Now,  you  look  at  Eddard' s  ears.  What  was  it  you 
named,  agin  ?     Whisper." 

Mr.  Wegg  whispered,  "  Boffin's  Bower." 

"  Eddard  !  (keep  yer  hi  on  his  ears)  cut  away  to 
Boffin's  Bower." 

Edward,  with  his  ears  lying  back,  remained  immovable. 

"  Eddard  !  (keep  yer  hi  on  his  ears)  cut  away  to 
Old  Harmon's." 

Edward  instantly  pricked  up  his  ears  to  their  utmost, 
and  rattled  off  at  such  a  pace  that  Mr.  Wegg's  conver- 
sation was  jolted  out  of  him  in  a  most  dislocated  state. 

"  Was-it-Ev-verajail  ?"  asked  Mr.  Wegg,  holding  on. 

"  Not  proper  jail  wot  you  and  me  would  get  com- 
mitted to,"  returned  his  escort ;  "  they  giv'  it  the  name,  on 
accounts  of  Old  Harmon  living  solitary  there." 

11  And-why-did-they-callitharm-Ony  ?"  asked  Wegg. 

11  On  accounts  of  his  never  agreeing  with  nobody 
Like  a  species  of  chaff.  Harmon's  Jail ;  Harmony  Jail. 
Working  it  round  like." 


OUR   MUTUAL    FRIEND.  85 

"  Doyouknow-Mist-Erboffin  !"  asked  Wegg. 

"  I  should  think  so  !  Everybody  do  about  here.  Ed- 
dard  knows  him.  (Keep  yer  hi  on  his  ears.)  Noddy 
Boffin,  Eddard  !" 

The  effect  of  the  name  was  so  very  alarming,  in  respect 
of  causing  a  temporary  disappearance  of  Edward's  head, 
casting  his  hind  hoofs  in  the  air,  greatly  accelerating  the 
pace,  and  increasing  the  jolting,  that  Mr.  Wegg  was  fain 
to  devote  his  attention  exclusively  to  holding  on,  and  to 
relinquish  his  desire  of  ascertaining  whether  this  homage 
to  Boffin  was  to  be  considered  complimentary  or  the  re- 
verse. 

Presently,  Edward  stopped  at  a  gateway,  and  VFegg 
discreetly  lost  no  time  in  slipping  out  at  the  back  of  the 
truck.  The  moment  he  was  landed,  his  late  driver,  with 
a  wave  of  the  carrot,  said,  "  Supper,  Eddard,"  and  he, 
the  hind  hoofs,  the  truck,  and  Edward,  all  seemed  to  fly 
into  the  air  together,  iu  a  kind  of  apotheosis. 

Pushing  the  gate,  which  stood  ajar,  Wegg  looked  into 
an  inclosed  space,  where  certain  tall  dark  mounds  rose 
high  against  the  sky,  and  where  the  pathway  to  the 
Bower  was  indicated,  as  the  moonlight  showed,  between 
two  lines  of  broken  crockery  set  in  ashes.  A  white  figure 
advancing  along  this  path,  proved  to  be  nothing  more 
ghostly  than  Mr.  Boffin,  easily  attired  for  the  pursuit  of 
knowledge,  in  an  undress  garment  of  short  white  smock- 
frock.  Having  received  his  literary  friend  with  great 
cordiality,  he  conducted  him  to  the  interior  of  the  Bower 
and  there  presented  him  to  Mrs.  Boffin — a  stout  lady  of 
a  rubicund  and  cheerful  aspect,  dressed  (to  Mr.  W  egg's 
consternation)  in  a  low  evening  dress  of  sable  satin,  and 
a  large  black  velvet  hat  and  feathers. 


86  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

"  Mrs.  Boffin,  Wegg,"  said  Boffin,  'Ms  a  high-flier  at 
Fashion.  And  her  make  is  such,  that  she  does  it  credit. 
As  to  myself,  I  ain't  yet  as  Fash'nable  as  I  may  come  to 
be.  Henrietty,  old  lady,  this  is  the  gentleman  that's 
a-going  to  decline  and  fall  off  the  Rooshan  Empire." 

"  And  I  am  sure  I  hope  it'll  do  you  both  good,"  said 
Mrs.  Boffin. 

It  was  the  queerest  of  rooms,  fitted  and  furnished  more 
like  a  luxurious  amateur  tap-room  than  any  thing  else 
within  the  ken  of  Silas  Wegg.  There  were  two  wooden 
settles  by  the  fire,  one  on  either  side  of  it,  with  a  cor- 
responding table  before  each.  On  one  of  these  tables 
the  eight  volumes  were  ranged  flat,  in  a  row,  like  a  gal- 
vanic battery  ;  on  the  other  certain  squat  case  bottles  of 
inviting  appearance  seemed  to  stand  on  tip-toe  to  exchange 
glances  with  Mr.  Wegg  over  a  front  row  of  tumblers  and 
a  basin  of  white  sugar.  On  the  hob,  a  kettle  steamed  ; 
on  the  hearth,  a  cat  reposed.  Facing  the  fire,  between 
the  settles,  a  sofa,  a  footstool,  and  a  little  table,  formed  a 
centre-piece  devoted  to  Mrs.  Boffiu.  They  were  garish  in 
taste  and  color,  but  were  expensive  articles  of  drawing- 
room  furniture  that  had  a  very  odd  look  beside  the  settles 
and  the  flaring  gaslight  pendant  from  the  ceiling.  There 
was  a  flowery  carpet  on  the  floor  ;  but,  instead  of  reach- 
ing to  the  fireside,  its  glowing  vegetation  stopped  short 
at  Mrs.  Boffin's  footstool,  and  gave  place  to  a  region  of 
sand  and  sawdust.  Mr.  Wegg  also  noticed  with  admiring 
eyes,  that,  while  the  flowery  land  displayed  such  hollow 
ornamentation  as  stuffed  birds  and  waxen  fruits  under 
glass-shades,  there  were,  in  the  territory  where  vegetation 
ceased,  compensatory  shelves  on  which  the  best  part  of  a 
large  pie  and  likewise  of  a  cold  joint  were  plainly  discern- 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND.    %  87 

ible  among  other  solids.  The  room  itself  was  large, 
though  low  ;  and  the  heavy  frames  of  its  old-fashioned 
windows,  and  the  heavy  beams  in  its  crooked  ceiling, 
seemed  to  indicate  that  it  had  once  been  a  house  of  some 
mark  standing  alone  in  the  country. 

"Do  you  like  it,  Wegg  V*  asked  Mr.  Boffin,  in  his 
pouncing  manner. 

"  I  admire  it  greatly,  Sir/'  said  Wegg.  "  Peculiar 
comfort  at  this  fireside,  Sir." 

11  Do  you  understand  it,  Wegg  ?" 

"  Why,  in  a  general  way,  Sir,"  Mr.  Wegg  was  begin- 
ning slowly  and  knowingly,  with  his  head  stuck  on  one 
side,  as  evasive  people  do  begin,  when  the  other  cut  him 
short : 

"You  donH  understand  it,  Wegg,  and  I'll  explain  it. 
These  arrangements  is  made  by  mutual  consent  between 
Mrs  Boffin  and  me.  Mrs.  Boffin,  as  I've  mentioned, 
is  a  highflier  at  Fashion  ;  at  present  I'm  not.  I  don't 
go  higher  than  comfort,  and  comfort  of  the  sort  that  I'm 
equal  to  the  enjyment  of.  Well,  then,  where  would  be 
the  good  of  Mrs.  Boffin  and  me  quarreling  over  it  ?  We 
never  did  quarrel  before  we  come  into  Boffin's  Bower  as 
a  property  ;  why  quarrel  when  we  have  come  into  Bof- 
fin's Bower  as  a  property  ?  So  Mrs.  Boffin  she  keeps  up 
her  part  of  the  room  in  her  way  ;  I  keep  up  my  part  of 
the  room  in  mine.  In  consequence  of  which  we  have  at 
once  Sociability  (I  should  go  melancholy  mad  without 
Mrs.  Boffin),  Fashion,  and  Comfort.  If  I  get  by  de- 
grees to  be  a  higher-flier  at  Fashion,  then  Mrs.  Boffin 
will  by  degrees  come  for'arder.  If  Mrs.  Boffin  should 
ever  be  less  of  a  dab  at  Fashion  than  she  is  at  the  pre- 
sent time,  then  Mrs.  Boffin's  carpet  would  go  back'arder. 


88  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

If  we  should  both  continny  as  we  are,  why  then  here  we 
are,  and  give  us  a  kiss,  old  lady." 

Mrs.  Boffin,  who,  perpetually  smiling,  had  approached 
and  drawn  her  plump  arm  through  her  lord's,  most  will- 
ingly complied.  Fashion,  in  the  form  of  her  black  velvet 
hat  and  feathers,  tried  to  prevent  it  ;  but  got  deservedly 
crushed  in  the  endeavor. 

"So  now,  Wegg,"  said  Mr.  Boffin,  wiping  his  mouth 
with  an  air  of  much  refreshment,  "  you  begin  to  know  us 
as  we  are.  This  is  a  charming  spot,  is  the  Bower,  but 
you  must  get  to  apprechiate  it  by  degrees.  It's  a  spot  to 
find  out  the  merits  of  little  by  little,  and  a  new'un  every 
day.  There's  a  serpentining  walk  up  each  of  the  mounds, 
that  gives  you  the  yard  and  neighborhood  changing  every 
moment.  When  you  get  to  the  top,  there's  a  view  of 
the  neighboring  premises,  not  to  be  surpassed.  The  pre- 
mises of  Mrs.  Boffin's  late  father  (Canine  Provision 
Trade),  you  look  down  into,  as  if  they  was  your  own. 
And  the  top  of  the  high  mound  is  crowned  with  a  lattice- 
work arbor,  in  which,  if  you  don't  read  out  loud  many  a 
book  in  the  summer,  ay,  and  as  a  friend,  drop  many  a 
time  into  poetry  too,  it  shan't  be  my  fault.  Now,  what'll 
you  read  on  ?" 

"  Thank  you,  Sir,"  returned  Wegg,  as  if  there  were 
nothing  new  in  his  reading  at  all.  "  I  generally  do  it  on 
gin  and  water." 

"  Keeps  the  organ  moist,  does  it,  Wegg  ?"  asked  Mr. 
Boffin,  with  innocent  eagerness. 

"  N-no,  Sir,"  replied  Wegg,  coolly.  "  I  should  hardly 
describe  it  so,  Sir.  I  should  say,  mellers  it.  Mellers  it, 
is  the  word  I  should  employ,  Mr.  Boffin." 

His  wooden  conceit  and  craft  kept  exact  pace  with 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND.  89 

the  delighted  expectation  of  his  victim.  The  visions 
rising  before  his  mercenary  mind,  of  the  many  ways  in 
which  this  connection  was  to  be  turned  to  account,  never 
obscured  the  foremost  idea  natural  to  a  dull  overreaching 
man,  that  he  must  not  make  himself  too  cheap. 

Mrs.  Boffin's  Fashion,  as  a  less  inexorable  deity  than 
the  idol  usually  worshiped  under  that  name,  did  not 
forbid  her  mixing  for  her  literary  guest,  or  asking  if  he 
found  the  result  to  his  liking.  On  his  returning  a  gra- 
cious answer,  and  taking  his  place  at  the  literary  settle, 
Mr.  Boffin  began  to  compose  himself  as  a  listener  at  the 
opposite  settle,  with  exultant  eyes. 

"  Sorry  to  deprive  you  of  a  pipe,  Wegg,"  he  said, 
filling  his  own,  "  but  you  can't  do  both  together.  Oh  ! 
and  another  thing  I  forgot  to-  name  !  When  you 
come  in  here  of  an  evening  and  look  round  you,  and 
notice  anything  on  a  shelf  that  happens  to  catch  your 
fancy,  mention  it." 

Wegg,  who  had  been  going  to  put  on  his  spectacles, 
immediately  laid  them  down,  with  the  sprightly  obser- 
vation : 

"You  read  my  thoughts,  Sir.  Do  my  eyes  deceive 
me,  or  is  that  object  up  there  a — a  pie  ?  It  can't  be  a 
pie." 

"Yes,  it's  a  pie,  Wegg,"  replied  Mr.  Boffin,  with  a 
glance  of  some  little  discomfiture  at  the  Decline  and  Fall. 

11  Have  I  lost  my  smell  for  fruits,  or  is  it  a  apple-pie, 
Sir  ?"  asked  Wegg. 

"  It's  a  veal  and  ham  pie,"  said  Mr.  Boffin. 

"Is  it  indeed,  Sir  ?  And  it  would  be  hard,  Sir,  to 
name  the  pie  that  is  a  better  pie  than  a  weal  and  ham- 
mer," said  Mr.  Wegg,  nodding  his  head  emotionally. 


90  OUPw  MUTUAL  FEIEND. 

"  Have  some,  Wegg  ?" 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Boffin,  I  think  I  will,  at  your  invi- 
tation. I  wouldn't  at  any  other  party's,  at  the  present 
juncture  ;  but  at  yours,  Sir  ! — And  meaty  jelly  too, 
especially  when  a  little  salt,  which  is  the  case  where 
there's  ham,  is  mellering  to  the  organ,  is  very  mellering 
to  the  organ."  Mr.  Wegg  did  not  say  what  organ,  but 
spoke  with  a  cheerful  generality. 

So  the  pie  was  brought  down,  and  the  worthy  Mr. 
Boffin  exercised  his  patience  until  Wegg,  in  the  exercise 
of  his  knife  and  fork,  had  finished  the  dish  ;  only  profiting 
by  the  opportunity  to  inform  Wegg  that,  although  it 
was  not  strictly  Fashionable  to  keep  the  contents  of  a 
larder  thus  exposed  to  view,  he  (Mr.  Boffin)  considered 
it  hospitable  ;  for  the  reason,  that,  instead  of  saying,  in 
a  comparatively  unmeaning  manner,  to  a  visitor,  '  There 
are  such  and  such  edibles  down  stairs  ;  will  you  have 
anything  up  V  you  took  the  bold  practical  course  of  say- 
ing, '  Cast  your  eye  along  the  shelves,  and  if  you  see 
anything  you  like  there,  have  it  down.'" 

And  now,  Mr.  Wegg  at  length  pushed  away  his  plate 
and  put  on  his  spectacles,  and  Mr.  Boffin  lighted  his  pipe 
and  looked  with  beaming  eyes  into  the  opening  world 
before  him,  and  Mrs.  Boffin  reclined  in  a  fashionable 
manner  on  her  sofa,  as  one  who  would  be  part  of  the 
audience  if  she  found  she  could,  and  would  go  to  sleep  if 
she  found  she  couldn't. 

"Hem  !"  began  Wegg,  "  This  Mr.  Boffin  and  Lady, 
is  the  first  chapter  of  the  first  wollume  of  the  Decline 
and  Fall  off — "  here  he  looked  hard  at  the  book,  and 
stopped. 


What's  the  matter,  Wegg  ?" 


OTJR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  91 

u  Why,  it  comes  into  my  mind,  do  you  know,  Sir," 
said  Wegg,  with  an  air  of  insinuating  frankness  (having 
first  again  looked  hard  at  the  book),  "  that  you  made  a 
little  mistake  this  morning,  which  I  had  meant  to  set 
you  right  in,  only  something  put  it  out  of  my  head.  I 
think  you  said  Rooshan  Empire,  Sir." 

"  It  is  Rooshan  ;  ain't  it,  Wegg  V 

"  No,  Sir.     Roman.     Roman." 

"  What's  the  difference,  Wegg  ?" 

"  The  difference,  Sir  I"  Mr.  Wegg  was  faltering  and 
in  danger  of  breaking  down,  when  a  bright  thought 
flashed  upon  him.  "  The  difference,  Sir  ?  There  you 
place  me  in  a  difficulty,  Mr.  Boffin.  Suffice  it  to  observe, 
that  the  difference  is  best  postponed  to  some  other  occa- 
sion when  Mrs.  Boffin  does  not  honor  us  with  her  com- 
pany. In  Mrs.  Boffin's  presence,  Sir,  we  had  better  drop 
it." 

Mr.  Wegg  thus  came  out  of  his  disadvantage  with  quite 
a  chivalrous  air,  and  not  only  that,  but  by  dint  of  repeat- 
ing with  a  manly  delicacy,  "  In  Mrs.  Boffin's  presence, 
Sir,  we  had  better  drop  it  !"  turned  the  disadvantage  on 
Boffin,  who  felt  that  he  had  committed  himself  in  a  very 
painful  manner. 

Then,  Mr.  Wegg,  in  a  dry  unflinching  way,  entered  on 
his  task  ;  going  straight  across  country  at  every  thing 
that  came  before  him  ;  taking  all  the  hard  words,  biogra- 
phical and  geographical ;  getting  rather  shaken  by  Had- 
rian, Trajan,  and  the  Antonines  ;  stumbling  at  Polybius 
(pronounced  Polly  Beeious,  and  supposed  by  Mr.  Boffin  to 
be  a  Roman  virgin,  and  by  Mrs.  Boffin  to  be  responsible 
for  that  necessity  of  dropping  it)  ;  heavily  unseated  by 
Titus  Antoninus  Pius  ;  up  again  and  falloping  smoothly 


92  OUR  MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

with  Augustus  ;  finally,  getting  over  the  ground  well  with 
Commodus  :  who,  under  the  appellation  of  Commodious, 
was  held  by  Mr.  Boffin  to  have  been  quite  unworthy  of 
his  English  origin,  and  "  not  to  have  acted  up  to  his 
name"  in  his  government  of  the  Roman  people.  With  the 
death  of  this  personage,  Mr.  Wegg  terminated  his  first 
reading ;  long  before  which  consummation  several  total 
eclipses  of  Mrs.  Boffin's  candle  behind  her  black  velvet 
disk,  would  have  been  very  alarming,  but  for  being  regu- 
larly accompanied  by  a  potent  smell  of  burnt  pens  when 
her  feathers  took  fire,  which  acted  as  a  restorative  and 
woke  her.  Mr.  Wegg,  having  read  on  by  rote  and  at- 
tached as  few  ideas  as  possible  to  the  text,  came  out  of 
the  encounter  fresh  ;  but,  Mr.  Boffin,  who  had  soon  laid 
down  his  unfinished  pipe,  and  had  ever  since  sat  intently 
staring  with  his  eyes  and  mind  at  the  confounding  enormi- 
ties of  the  Romans,  was  so  severely  punished  that  he  could 
hardly  wish  his  literary  friend  Good-night,  and  articulate 
"  To-morrow." 

"  Commodious,"  gasped  Mr.  Boffin,  staring  at  the  moon, 
after  letting  Wegg  out  at  the  gate  and  fastening  it : 
"  Commodious  fights  in  that  wild-beast-show,  seven  hun- 
dred and  thirty-five  times,  in  one  character  only  1  As  if 
that  wasn't  stunning  enough,  a  hundred  lions  is  turned 
into  the  same  wild-beast-show  all  at  once  !  As  if  that 
wasn't  stunning  enough,  Commodious,  in  another  charac- 
ter, kills  'em  all  off  in  a  hundred  goes  !  As  if  that  wasn't 
stunning  enough,  Yittle-us  (and  well  named  too)  eats  six 
millions'  worth,  English  money,  in  seven  months  !  Wegg 
takes  it  easy,  but  upon-my-soui  to  a  old  bird  like  myself 
these  are  scarers.  And  even  now  that  Commodious  is 
strangled,  I  don't  see  a  way  to  our  bettering  ourselves." 


OUR  MUTUAL   FRIEND.  93 

Mr.  Boffin  added  as  he  turned  his  pensive  steps  toward 
the  Bower  and  shook  his  head,  "I  didn't  think  this  morn- 
ing there  was  half  so  many  Scarers  in  Print.  But  I'm  in 
for  it  now  !" 


94  OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

CUT   ADRIFT. 

The  Six  Jolly  Fellowship-Porters,  already  mentioned 
as  a  tavern  of  a  dropsical  appearance,  had  long  settled 
down  into  a  state  of  hale  infirmity.  In  its  whole  consti- 
tution it  had  not  a  straight  floor,  and  hardly  a  straight 
line  ;  but  it  had  outlasted,  and  clearly  would  yet  outlast, 
many  a  better-trimmed  building,  many  a  sprucer  public 
house.  Externally,  it  was  a  narrow  lopsided  wooden 
jumble  of  corpulent  windows  heaped  one  upon  another  as 
you  might  heap  as  many  toppling  oranges,  with  a  crazy 
wooden  veranda  impending  over  the  water  ;  indeed  the 
whole  house,  inclusive  of  the  complaining  flag-staff  on  the 
roof,  impended  over  the  water,  but  seemed  to  have  got 
into  the  condition  of  a  faint-hearted  diver  who  has  paused 
so  long  on  the  brink  that  he  will  never  go  in  at  all. 

This  description  applies  to  the  river-frontage  of  the  Six 
Jolly  Fellowship-Porters.  The  back  of  the  establishment, 
though  the  chief  entrance  was  there,  so  contracted  that  it 
merely  represented  in  its  connection  with  the  front,  the 
handle  of  a  flat-iron  set  up-right  on  its  broadest  end.  This 
handle  stood  at  the  bottom  of  a  wilderness  of  court  and 
alley  :  which  wilderness  pressed  so  hard  and  close  upon 
the  Six  Jolly  Fellowship-Porters  as  to  leave  the  hostelry 
not  an  inch  of  ground  beyond  its  door.     For  this  reason, 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND.  95 

in  combination  with  the  fact  that  the  house  was  all  but 
afloat  at  high-water,  when  the  Porters  had  a  family  wash 
the  linen  subjected  to  that  operation  might  usually  be  seen 
drying  on  lines  stretched  across  the  reception-rooms  and 
bed-chambers. 

The  wood  forming  the  chimney-pieces,  beams,  partitions, 
floors  and  doors,  of  the  Six  Jolly  Fellowship-Porters, 
seemed  in  its  old  age  fraught  with  confused  memories  of 
its  youth.  In  many  places  it  had  become  gnarled  and 
riven,  according  to  the  manner  of  old  trees  ;  knots  start- 
ed out  of  it ;  and  here  and  there  it  seemed  to  twist  itself 
into  some  likeness  of  boughs.  In  this  state  of  second 
childhood  it  had  an  air  of  being  in  its  own  way  garrulous 
about  its  early  life.  Not  without  reason  was  it  often  as- 
serted by  the  regular  frequenters  of  the  Porters,  that  when 
the  light  shone  full  upon  the  grain  of  certain  panels,  and 
particularly  upon  an  old  corner  cupboard  of  walnut-wood 
in  the  bar,  you  might  trace  little  forests  there,  and  tiny 
trees  like  the  parent  tree,  in  full  umbrageous  leaf. 

The  bar  of  the  Six  Jolly  Fellowship-Porters  was  a  bar 
to  soften  the  human  breast.  The  available  space  in  it 
was  not  much  larger  than  a  hackney-coach  ;  but  no  one 
could  have  wished  the  bar  bigger,  that  space  was  so  girt 
in  by  corpulent  little  casks,  and  by  cordial-bottles  radiant 
with  fictitious  grapes  in  bunches,  and  by  lemons  in  nets, 
and  by  biscuits  in  baskets,  and  by  the  polite  beer-pulls 
that  made  low  bows  when  customers  were  served  with 
beer,  and  by  the  cheese  in  a  snug  corner,  and  by  the  land- 
lady's own  small  table  in  a  snugger  corner  near  the  fire, 
with  the  cloth  everlastingly  laid.  This  haven  was  divided 
from  the  rough  world  by  a  glass  partition  and  a  half-door 
with  a  leaden  sill  upon  it  for  the  convenience  of  resting 


96  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

your  liquor  ;  but,  over  this  half-door  the  bar's  suugness 
so  gushed  forth,  that,  albeit  customers  drank  there  stand- 
ing, in  a  dark  and  draughty  passage  where  they  were 
shouldered  by  other  customers  passing  in  and  out,  they 
always  appeared  to  drink  under  an  enchanting  delusion 
that  they  were  in  the  bar  itself. 

For  the  rest,  both  the  tap  and  parlor  of  the  Six  Jolly 
Fellowship-Porters  gave  npon  the  river,  and  had  red  cur- 
tains matching  the  noses  of  the  regular  customers,  and 
were  provided  with  comfortable  fireside  tin  utensils,  like 
models  of  sugar-loaf  hats,  made  in  that  shape  that  they 
might,  with  their  pointed  ends,  seek  out  for  themselves, 
glowing  nooks  in  the  depth  of  the  red  coals,  when  they 
mulled  your  ale,  or  heated  for  you  those  delectable  drinks, 
Purl,  Flip,  and  Dog's  Nose.  The  first  of  these  humming 
compounds  was  a  speciality  of  the  Porters,  which,  through 
an  inscription  on  its  door-posts,  gently  appealed  to  your 
feelings  as,  "  The  Early  Purl  House."  For,  it  would 
seem  that  Purl  must  always  be  taken  early  ;  though 
whether  for  any  more  distinctly  stomachic  reason  than 
that,  as  the  early  bird  catches  the  worm,  so  the  early  purl 
catches  the  customer,  can  not  here  be  resolved.  It  only 
remains  to  add  that  in  the  handle  of  the  flat-iron,  and  op- 
posite the  bar  was  a  very  little  room  like  a  three-cornered 
hat,  into  which  no  direct  ray  of  sun,  moon,  or  star,  ever 
penetrated,  but  which  was  superstitiously  regarded  as 
sanctuary  replete  with  comfort  and  retirement  by  gas-light 
and  on  the  door  of  which  was  therefore  painted  its  allur- 
ing name  :  Cozy. 

Miss  Potterson,  sole  proprietor  and  manager  of  the 
Fellowship-Porters,  reigned  supreme  on  her  throne,  the 
Bar,  and  a  man  must  have  drunk  himself  mad  drunk  in- 


&IWu* 


ofanHn 


OUR  MUTUAL   FRIEND.  97 

deed  if  he  thought  he  could  contest  a  point  with  her.  Be- 
ing known  on  her  own  authority  as  Miss  Abbey  Potter- 
son,  some  water-side  heads,  which  (like  the  water)  were 
none  of  the  clearest,  harbored  muddled  notions  that,  be- 
cause of  her  dignity  and  firmness,  she  was  named  after,  or 
in  some  sort  related  to,  the  Abbey  at  Westminster.  But, 
Abbey  was  only  short  for  Abigail,  by  which  name  Miss 
Potterson  had  been  christened  at  Limehouse  Church,  some 
sixty  and  odd  years  before. 

"  Now,  you  mind,  you  Riderhoocl,"  said  Miss  Abbey 
Potterson,  with  emphatic  forefinger  over  the  half-door, 
11  the  Fellowships  don't  want  you  at  all,  and  would  rather 
by  far  have  your  room  than  your  company  ;  but  if  you 
were  as  welcome  here  as  you  are  not,  you  shouldn't  even 
then  have  another  drop  of  drink  here  this  night,  after  this 
present  pint  of  beer.     So  make  the  most  of  it." 

"  But  you  know,  Miss  Potterson,"  this  was  suggested 
very  meekly  though,  "  if  I  behave  myself,  you  can't  help 
serving  me,  miss." 

"  Can't  I  ?"  said  Abbey,  with  infinite  expression. 

"  No,  Miss  Potterson  ;  because,  you  see,  the  law — " 

"  I  am  the  law  here,  my  man,"  returned  Miss  Abbey, 
"  and  I'll  soon  convince  you  of  that,  if  you  doubt  it  at 
all." 

"I  never  said  I  did  doubt  it  at  all,  Miss  Abbey." 

"  So  much  the  better  for  you." 

Abbey  the  supreme  threw  the  customer's  half-pence 
into  the  till,  and,  seating  herself  in  her  fireside-chair,  re- 
sumed the  newspaper  she  had  been  reading.  She  was  a 
tall,  upright,  well-favored  woman,  though  severe  of  counte- 
nance, and  had  more  of  the  air  of  a  schoolmistress  than 
mistress  of  the  Six  Jolly  Fellowship-Porters.     The  man 


98  OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 

on  the  other  side  of  the  half-door  was  a  water-side  man 
with  a  squinting  leer,  and  he  eyed  her  as  if  he  were  one  of 
her  pupils  in  disgrace. 

"  You're  cruel  hard  upon  me,  Miss  Potterson." 
Miss  Potterson  read  her  newspaper  with  contracted 
brows,  and  took  no  notice  until  he  whispered  : 

"  Miss  Potterson  I  Ma'am  1  Might  I  have  half  a 
word  with  you  ?" 

Deigning  then  to  turn  her  eyes  sideways  toward  the 
suppliant,  Miss  Potterson  beheld  him  knuckling  his  low 
forehead,  and  ducking  at  her  with  his  head,  as  if  he  were 
asking  leave  to  fling  himself  head  foremost  over  the  half- 
door  and  alight  on  his  feet  in  the  bar. 

"  Well  V  said  Miss  Potterson,  with  a  manner  as  short 
as  she  herself  was  long,  "say  your  half  word.  Bring  it 
out." 

"  Miss  Potterson  !  Ma'am  !  would  yon  'sxcuse  me 
taking  the  liberty  of  asking,  is  it  my  character  that  you 
take  objections  to  ?" 

"  Certainly,"  said  Miss  Potterson. 

"  Is  it  that  you're  afraid  of — " 

"I  am  not  afraid  of  you,"  interposed  Miss  Potterson, 
"  if  you  mean  that." 

"  But  I  humbly  don't  mean  that,  Miss  Abbey." 

"  Then  what  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  You  really  are  so  cruel  hard  upon  me  I  What  I  was 
going  to  make  inquiries  was  no  more  than,  might  you 
have  any  apprehensions — leastways  beliefs  or  suppositions 
— that  the  company's  property  mightn't  be  altogether  to 
be  considered  safe,  if  I  used  the  house  too  regular  ?" 

"  What  do  you  want  to  know  for  ?" 

"  Well,  Miss  Abbey,  respectfully  meaning  no  offence  to 


OUR  MUTUAL  FKIEND.  99 

you,  it  would  be  some  satisfaction  to  a  man's  mind  to 
understand  why  the  Fellowship-Porters  is  not  to  be  free 
to  such  as  me,  and  is  to  be  free  to  such  as  Gaffer." 

"  The  face  of  the  hostess  darkened  with  some  shadow 
of  perplexity,  as  -she  replied  :  "  Gaffer  has  .never  been 
where  you  have  been." 

11  Signifying  in  Quod,  Miss  ?  Perhaps  not.  But  he 
may  have  merited  it.  He  may  be  suspected  of  far  worse 
than  ever  I  was." 

"  Who  suspects  him  ?" 

"  Many,  perhaps.     One,  beyond  all  doubts.     I  do." 

"  You  are  not  much,"  said  Miss  Abbey  Potterson, 
knitting  her  brows  again  with  disdain. 

"  But  I  was  his  pardner.  Mind  you,  Miss  Abbey,  I 
was  his  pardner.  As  such  I  know  more  of  the  ins  and 
outs  of  him  than  any  person  living  does.  Notice  this  ! 
I  am  the  man  that  was  his  pardner,  and  I  am  the  man 
that  suspects  him." 

"  Then,"  suggested  Miss  Abbey,  though  with  a  deeper 
shade  of  perplexity  than  before,  "  you  criminate  your- 
self." 

"No  I  don't,  Miss  Abbey.  For  how  does  it  stand? 
It  stands  this  way.  When  I  was  his  pardner,  I  couldn't 
never  give  him  satisfaction.  Why  couldn't  I  never  give 
him  satisfaction  ?  Because  my  luck  was  bad  ;'  because  I 
couldn't  find  many  enough  of  "em.  How  was  his  luck  ? 
Always  good.  Notice  this  !  Always  good  !  Ah  !  There's 
a  many  games,  Miss  Abbey,  in  which  there's  chance, 
but  there's  a  many  others  in  which  there's  skill  too,  mixed 
along  with  it." 

"  That  Gaffer  has  a  skill  in  finding  what  he  finds,  who 
doubts,  man  ?"  asked  Miss  Abbey. 


100  OUR  MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

"A  skill  in  purwiding  what  he  finds,  perhaps,"  said 
Riderhood,  shaking  his  evil  head. 

Miss  Abbey  knitted  her  brow  at  him,  as  he  darkly 
leered  at  her. 

"  If  you're  out  upon  the  river  pretty  nigh  every  tide, 
and  if  you  want  to  find  a  man  or  woman  in  the  river, 
you'll  greatly  help  your  luck,  Miss  Abbey,  by  knocking  a 
man  or  woman  on  the  head  aforehand  and  pitching  'em 
in." 

"  Gracious  Lud  1"  was  the  involuntary  exclamation  of 
Miss  Potterson. 

"  Mind  you  1"  returned  the  other,  stretching  forward 
over  the  half  door  to  throw  his  words  into  the  bar  ;  for 
his  voice  was  as  if  the  head  of  his  boat's  mop  were  down 
his  throat  ;  "  I  say  so,  Miss  Abbey  !  And  mind  you  ! 
I'll  follow  him  up,  Miss  Abbey  !  And  mind  you  !  I'll 
bring  him  to  book  at  last,  if  it's  twenty  year  hence,  I 
will  !  Who's  he,  to  be  favored  along  of  his  daughter  ? 
Ain't  I  got  a  daughter  of  my  own  1" 

With  that  flourish,  and  seeming  to  have  talked  himself 
rather  more  drunk  and  much  more  ferocious  than  he  had 
begun  by  being,  Mr.  Riderhood  took  up  his  pint  pot  and 
swaggered  off  to  the  tap-room. 

Gaffer  was  not  there,  but  a  pretty  strong  muster  of 
Miss  Abbey's  pupils  were,  who  exhibited,  when  occasion 
required,  the  greatest  docility.  On  the  clock's  striking 
ten,  and  Miss  Abbey's  appearing  at  the  door,  and  ad- 
dressing a  certain  person  in  a  faded  scarlet  jacket,  with 
"George  Jones,  your  time's  up  !  I  told  your  wife  you 
should  be  punctual,"  Jones  submissively  rose,  gave  the 
company  good-night,  and  retired.  At  half-past  ten,  on 
Miss  Abbey's  looking  in  again,  and  saying,  "  William 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  101 

Williams,  Bob  Glamour,  and  Jonathan,  you  are  all  due," 
Williams,  Bob,  and  Jonathan  with  similar  meekness  took 
their  leave  and  evaporated.  Greater  wonder  than  these, 
when  a  bottle-nosed  person  in  a  glazed  hat  had  after  some 
considerable  hesitation  ordered  another  glass  of  gin  and 
water  of  the  attendant  pot-boy,  and  when  Miss  Abbey, 
instead  of  giving  it,  appeared  in  person,  saying,  "  Captain 
Joey,  you  have  had  as  much  as  will  do  you  good,"  not 
only  did  the  captain  feebly  rub  his  knees  and  contemplate 
the  fire  without  offering  a  word  of  protest,  but  the  rest  of 
the  company  murmured,  "  Ay,  ay,  Captain,  Miss  Abbey's 
right  ;  you  be  guided  by  Miss  Abbey,  Captain."  Nor 
was  Miss  Abbey's  vigilance  in  anywise  abated  by  this 
submission,  but  rather  sharpened  ;  for,  looking  round  on 
the  deferential  faces  of  her  school,  and  descrying  two 
other  young  persons  in  need  of  admonition,  she  thus  be- 
stowed it  :  "  Tom  Tootle,  it's  time  for  a  young  fellow 
who's  going  to  be  married  next  month,  to  be  at  home  and 
asleep.  And  you  needn't  nudge  him,  Mr.  Jack  Mullins, 
for  I  know  your  work  begins  early  to-morrow,  and  I  say 
the  same  to  you.  So  come  !  Good-night,  like  good  lads  !" 
Upon  which  the  blushing  Tootle  looked  at  Mullins,  and 
the  blushing  Mullins  looked  to  Tootle,  on  the  question  who 
should  rise  first,  and  finally  both  rose  together  and  went 
out  on  the  broad  grin,  followed  by  Miss  Abbey  ;  in  whose 
presence  the  company  did  not  take  the  liberty  of  grinning 
likewise. 

In  such  an  establishment,  the  white-aproned  pot-boy 
with  his  shirt-sleeves  arranged  in  a  tight  roll  on  each  bare 
shoulder,  was  a  mere  hint  of  the  possibility  of  physical 
force,  thrown  out  as  a  matter  of  state  and  form.  Exactly 
at  the  closing  hour,  all  the  guests  who  were  left  filed  out 

5* 


102  OUR  MUTUAL   FEIEND. 

in  the  best  order  :  Miss  Abbey  standing  at  the  half  door 
of  the  bar,  to  hold  a  ceremony  of  review  and  dismissal. 
All  wished  Miss  Abbey  good-night,  and  Miss  Abbey  wished 
good-night  to  all  except  Riclerhood.  The  sapient  pot-boy, 
looking  on  officially,  then  had  the  conviction  borne  in 
upon  his  soul,  that  the  man  was  evermore  outcast  and 
excommunicate  from  the  Six  Jolly  Fellowship- Porters. 

"  You  Bob  Glibbery,"  said  Miss  Abbey  to  this  pot- 
boy, "  run  round  to  H  exam's  and  tell  his  daughter  Lizzie 
that  I  want  to  speak  to  her." 

With  exemplary  swiftness  Bob  Gibbery  departed,  and 
returned.  Lizzie,  following  him,  arrived  as  one  of  the 
two  female  domestics  of  the  Fellowship-Porters,  arranged 
on  the  snug  little  table  by  the  bar  fire  Miss  Potterson's 
supper  of  hot  sausages  and  mashed  potatoes. 

"  Come  in  and  sit  ye  down,  girl,"  said  Miss  Abbey. 
"  Can  you  eat  a  bit  ?" 

"  No  thank  you,  Miss.     I  had  my  supper." 

"  I  have  had  mine  too,  I  think,"  said  Miss  Abbey, 
pushing  away  the  untasted  dish,  "  and  more  than  enough 
of  it.     I  am  put  out,  Lizzie." 

"lam  very  sorry  for  it,  Miss." 

"  Then  why,  in  the  name  of  Goodness,"  quoth  Miss 
Abbey,  sharply,  "  do  you  do  it  ?" 

"/doit,  Miss  !" 

"  There,  there  !  Don't  look  astonished.  I  ought  to 
have  begun  with  a  word  of  explanation,  but  it's  my  way 
to  make  short  cuts  at  things.  I  always  was  a  pepperer. 
You  Bob  Glibbery  there,  put  the  chain  upon  the  door 
and  get  ye  down  to  your  supper." 

With  an  alacrity  that  seemed  no  less  referable  to  the 
pepperer  fact  than  to  the  supper  fact,  Bob  obeyed,  and 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  103 

his  boots  were  heard  descending  toward  the  bed  of  the 
river. 

"  Lizzie  Hexam,  Lizzie  Hexani,"  then  began  Miss 
Potterson,  "how  often  have  I  held  out  to  you  the  oppor- 
tunity of  getting  clear  of  your  father,  and  doing  well  ?" 

11  Very  often,  Miss." 

"Yery  often?  Yes!  And  I  might  as  well  have 
spoken  to  the  iron  funnel  of  the  strongest  sea-going 
steamer  that  passes  the  Fellowship-Porters." 

"  No,  Miss,"  Lizzie  pleaded  :  "  because  that  would  not 
be  thankful,  and  I  am." 

"  I  vow  and  declare  I  am  half-ashamed  of  myself  for 
taking  such  an  interest  in  you,"  said  Miss  Abbey,  pettishly, 
11  for  I  don't  believe  I  should  do  it  if  you  were  not  good- 
looking.     Why  ain't  you  ugly  ?" 

Lizzie  merely  answered  this  difficult  question  with  an 
apologetic  glance. 

"  However,  you  ain't,"  resumed  Miss  Potterson,  "  so  it's 
no  use  going  into  that:  I  must  take  you  as  I  find  you. 
Which  indeed  is  what  I've  done.  And  you  mean  to  say 
you  are  still  obstinate  ?" 

"  Not  obstinate,  Miss,  I  hope." 

"  Firm  (I  suppose  you  call  it)  then  V1 

"  Yes,  Miss.     Fixed  like  * 

"  Never  was  an  obstinate  person  yet,  who  would  own 
to  the  world  1"  remarked  Miss  Potterson,  rubbing  her  vexed 
nose  ;  "  I'm  sure  I  would,  if  I  was  obstinate  ;  but  I  am  a 
pepperer,  which  is  different.  Lizzie  Hexam,  Lizzie  Hexam, 
think  again.     Do  you  know  the  worst  of  your  father  ?" 

"  Do  I  know  the  worst  of  father  !"  she  repeated,  open- 
ing her  eyes. 

"Do  you  know  the  suspicions  to  which  your  father 


104  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

makes  himself  liable  ?  Do  you  know  the  suspicions  that 
are  actually  about,  against  him  ?" 

The  consciousness  of  what  he  habitually  did  oppressed 
the  girl  heavily,  and  she  slowly  cast  down  her  eyes. 

"  Say,  Lizzie.     Do  you  know  ?"  urged  Miss  Abbey. 

"  Please  to  tell  me  what  the  suspicions  are,  Miss,"  she 
asked  after  a  silence,  with  her  eyes  upon  the  ground. 

11  It's  not  an  easy  thing  to  tell  a  daughter,  but  it  must 
be  told.  It  is  thought  by  some,  then,  that  your  father 
helps  to  their  death  a  few  of  those  that  he  finds  dead." 

The  relief  of  hearing  what  she  felt  sure  was  a  false 
suspicion,  in  place  of  the  expected  real  and  true  one,  so 
lightened  Lizzie's  breast  for  the  moment,  that  Miss  Abbey 
was  amazed  at  her  demeanor.  She  raised  her  eyes  quickly, 
shook  her  head,  and  in  a  kind  of  triumph,  almost  laughed. 

11  They  little  know  father  who  talk  like  that  1" 

("  She  takes  it,"  thought  Miss  Abbey,  "  very  quietly. 
She  takes  it  with  extraordinary  quietness  !") 

11  And  perhaps,"  said  Lizzie,  as  a  recollection  flashed 
upon  her,  "it  is  some  one  who  has  a  grudge  against 
father  ;  some  one  who  has  threatened  father  !  Is  it 
Riderhood,  Miss  ?" 

11  Well  ;  yes  it  is." 

"  Yes  !  He  was  father's  partner,  and  father  broke 
with  him,  and  now  he  revenges  himself.  Father  broke 
with  him  when  I  was  by,  and  he  was  very  angry  at  it. 
And  besides,  Miss  Abbey  ! — Will  you  never,  without 
strong  reason,  let  pass  your  lips  what  I  am  going  to 
say  ?" 

She  bent  forward  to  say  it  in  a  whisper. 

"  I  promise,"  said  Miss  Abbey. 

"  It  was  on  the  night  when  the  Harmon  murder  wa9 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  105 

found  out,  through  father,  just  above  bridge.  And  just 
below  bridge,  as  we  were  sculling  home,  Riderhood  crept 
out  of  the  dark  in  his  boat.  And  many  and  many  times 
afterward,  when  such  great  pains  were  taken  to  come  to 
the  bottom  of  the  crime,  and  it  never  could  be  come  near, 
I  thought  in  my  own  thoughts  could  Riderwood  himself 
have  done  the  murder,  and  did  he  purposely  let  father 
find  the  body  ?  It  seemed  a'most  wicked  and  cruel  to  so 
much  as  think  such  a  thing  ;  but  now  that  he  tries  to 
throw  it  upon  father,  I  go  back  to  it  as  if  it  was  a  truth. 
Can  it  be  a  truth  ?  That  was  put  into  my  mind  by  the 
dead." 

She  asked  this  question  rather  of  the  fire  than  of  the 
hostess  of  the  Fellowship-Porters,  and  looked  round  the 
little  bar  with  troubled  eyes. 

But  Miss  Potterson,  as  a  ready  schoolmistress  accus- 
tomed to  bring  her  pupils  to  book,  set  the  matter  in  a 
light  that  was  essentially  of  this  world. 

"  You  poor  deluded  girl,"  she  said,  "  don't  you  see 
that  you  can't  open  your  mind  to  particular  suspicions  of 
one  of  the  two,  without  opening  your  mind  to  general 
suspicions  of  the  other  ?  They  had  worked  together. 
Their  goings-on  had  been  going  on  for  some  time.  Even 
granting  that  it  was  as  you  have  had  in  your  thoughts, 
what  the  two  had  done  together  would  come  familiar  to 
the  mind  of  one." 

"  You  don't  know  father,  Miss,  when  you  talk  like 
that.     Iudeed,  iudeed,  you  don't  know  father." 

11  Lizzie,  Lizzie,"  said  Miss  Potterson.  "Leave  him. 
You  needn't  break  with  him  altogether,  but  leave  him. 
Do  well  away  from  him,  not  because  of  what  I  have  told 
you  to-night — we'll   pass  no  judgment  upon  that,  and 


106  OUR   rciTTTTAL   FRIEND. 

we'll  hope  it  may  not  be — but  because  of  what  I  have 
urged  on  you  before.  No  matter  whether  it's  owing  to 
your  good  looks  or  not,  I  like  you,  and  I  want  to  serve 
you.  Lizzie,  come  under  my  direction.  Don't  fling  your- 
self away,  my  girl,  but  be  persuaded  into  being  respect- 
able and  happy." 

In  the  sound  good  feeling  and  good  sense  of  her 
entreaty,  Miss  Abbey  had  softened  into  a  soothing  tone, 
and  had  even  drawn  her  arm  round  the  girl's  waist,  but 
she  only  replied,  "  Thank  you,  thank  you  !  I  can't.  I 
won't.  I  must  not  think  of  it.  The  harder  father  is 
borne  upon,  the  more  he  needs  me  to  lean  on." 

And  then  Miss  Abbey,  who,  like  all  hard  people  when 
they  do  soften,  felt  that  there  was  considerable  compen- 
sation owing  to  her,  underwent  reaction  and  became 
frigid. 

"  I  have  done  what  I  can,"  she  said,  "  and  you  must 
go  your  way.  You  make  your  bed,  and  you  must  lie  on 
it.  But  tell  your  father  one  thing  :  he  must  not  come 
here  any  more." 

"  Oh,  Miss,  will  you  forbid  him  the  house  where  I 
know  he's  safe  ?" 

"  The  Fellowships,"  returned  Miss  Abbey,  "  has  itself 
to  look  to  as  well  as  others.  It  has  been  hard  work 
to  establish  order  here,  and  make  the  Fellowships  what 
it  is,  and  it  is  daily  and  nightly  hard  work  to  keep  it  so. 
The  Fellowships  must  not  have  a  taint  upon  it  that  may 
give  it  a  bad  name.  I  forbid  the  house  to  Riderhood, 
and  I  forbid  the  house  to  Gaffer.  I  forbid  both  equally. 
I  find  from  Riderhood  and  you  together,  that  there  are 
suspicions  against  both  men,  and  I'm  not  going  to  take 
upon  myself  to  decide  betwixt  them.     They  are  both 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  107 

tarred  with  a  dirty  brush,  and  I  can't  have  the  Fellow- 
ships tarred  with  the  same  brush.     That's  all  i"  know." 

"  Good  night,  Miss  F?  said  Lizzie  Hexam,  sorrowfully. 

"Hah  ! — Good  night  I"  returned  Miss  Abbey,  with  a 
shake  of  her  head. 

"  Believe  me,  Miss  Abbey,  I  am  truly  grateful  all  the 
same." 

"  I  can  believe  a  good  deal,"  returned  the  stately 
Abbey,  "  so  I'll  try  to  believe  that  too,  Lizzie." 

No  supper  did  Miss  Potterson  take  that  night,  and 
only  half  her  usual  tumbler  of  hot  Port  Negus.  And 
the  female  domestics — two  robust  sisters,  with  staring 
black  eyes,  shining  flat  red  faces,  blunt  noses,  and  strong 
black  curls,  like  dolls — interchanged  the  sentiment  that 
Missis  had  had  her  hair  combed  the  wrong  way  by  some- 
body. And  the  pot-boy  afterward  remarked  that  he 
hadn't  been  so  "  rattled  to  bed"  since  his  late  mother 
had  systematically  accelerated  his  retirement  to  rest  with 
a  poker. 

The  chaining  of  the  door  behind  her,  as  she  went 
forth,  disenchanted  Lizzie  Hexam  of  that  first  relief  she 
had  felt.  The  night  was  black  and  shrill,  the  river-side 
wilderness  was  melancholy,  and  there  was  a  sound  of 
casting-out  in  the  rattling  of  the  iron-links,  and  the 
grating  of  the  bolts  and  staples  under  Miss  Abbey's  hand. 
As  she  came  beneath  the  lowering  sky,  a  sense  of  being 
involved  in  a  murky  shade  of  murder  dropped  upon  her, 
and  as  the  tidal  swell  of  the  river  broke  at  her  feet 
without  her  seeing  how  it  gathered,  so,  her  thoughts 
startled  her  by  rushing  out  of  an  unseen  void  and  striking 
at  her  heart. 

Of  her  father's  being  groundlessly  suspected,  she  felt 


108  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

sure.  Sure.  Sure.  And  yet,  repeat  the  word  inwardly 
as  often  as  she  would,  the  attempt  to  reason  out,  and 
prove  that  she  was  sure,  always  came  after  it  and  failed. 
Biderhood  had  done  the  deed,  and  entrapped  her  father. 
Biderhood  had  not  done  the  deed,  but  had  resolved  in 
lis  malice  to  turn  against  her  father  the  appearances 
that  were  ready  to  his  hand  to  distort.  Equally  and 
swiftly  upon  either  putting  of  the  case,  followed  the 
frightful  possibility  that  her  father,  being  innocent,  yet 
might  come  to  be  believed  guilty.  She  had  heard  of 
people  suffering  Death  for  bloodshed  of  which  they  were 
afterward  proved  pure,  and  those  ill-fated  persons  were 
not,  first,  in  that  dangerous  wrong  in  which  her  father 
stood.  Then  at  the  best,  the  beginning  of  his  being  set 
apart,  whispered  against,  and  avoided,  was  a  certain  fact. 
It  dated  from  that  very  night.  And  as  the  great  black 
river  with  its  dreary  shores  was  soon  lost  to  her  view  in 
the  gloom,  so,  she  stood  on  the  river's  brink  unable  to 
see  into  the  vast  blank  misery  of  a  life  suspected,  and 
fallen  away  from  by  good  and  bad,  but  knowing  that  it 
lay  there  dim  before  her,  stretching  away  to  the  great 
ocean,  Death. 

One  thing  only  was  clear  to  the  girl's  mind.  Accus- 
tomed from  her  very  babyhood  promptly  to  do  the  thing 
that  could  be  done — whether  to  keep  out  weather,  to 
ward  off  cold,  to  postpone  hunger,  or  what  not — she 
started  out  of  her  meditation  and  ran  home. 

The  room  was  quiet,  and  the  lamp  burnt  on  the  table. 
In  the  bunk  in  the  corner  her  brother  lay  asleep.  She 
bent  over  him  softly,  kissed  him,  and  came  to  the  table. 

"  By  the  time  of  Miss  Abbey's  closing,  and  by  the  run 
of  the  tide,  it  must  be  one.    Tide's  running  up.     Father 


CUR   MUTUAL    FRIEND.  109 

at  Chiswick,  wouldn't  think  of  coming  down  till  after  the 
turn,  and  that's  at  half  after  four.  I'll  call  Charley  at 
six.     I  shall  hear  the  church  clocks  strike,  as  I  sit  here." 

Very  quietly  she  placed  a  chair  before  the  scanty  fire, 
and  sat  down  in  it,  drawing  her  shawl  about  her. 

"  Charley's  hollow  down  by  the  flare  is  not  there  now 
Poor  Charley  1" 

The  clock  struck  two,  and  the  clock  struck  three,  and 
the  clock  struck  four,  and  she  remained  there,  with  a 
woman's  patience  and  her  own  purpose.  When  the 
morning  was  well  on  between  four  and  five,  she  slipped 
off  her  shoes  (that  her  going  about  might  not  wake 
Charley),  trimmed  the  fire  sparingly,  put  water  on  to 
boil,  and  set  the  table  for  breakfast.  Then  she  went  up 
the  ladder,  lamp  in  hand,  and  came  down  again,  and 
glided  about  and  about,  making  a  little  bundle.  Lastly, 
from  her  pocket,  and  from  the  chimney-piece,  and  from 
an  inverted  basin  on  the  highest  shelf,  she  brought  half- 
pence, a  few  sixpences,  fewer  shillings,  and  fell  to  labori- 
ously and  noiselessly  counting  them,  and  setting  aside 
one  little  heap.  She  was  still  so  engaged,  when  she  was 
startled  by : 

"  Hal-loa  !"  from  her  brolher,  sitting  up  in  bed. 

"  You  made  me  jump,  Charley." 

"Jump  !  Didn't  you  make  me  jump,  when  I  opened 
my  eyes  a  moment  ago,  and  saw  you  sitting  there,  like 
the  ghost  of  a  girl-miser,  in  the  dead  of  the  night  ?" 

"  It's  not  the  dead  of  the  night,  Charley.  It's  nigli  six 
in  the  morning." 

"  Is  it  though  ?    But  what  are  you  up  to,  Liz  ?" 

"  Still  telling  your  fortune,  Charley." 

"  It  seems  to  be  a  precious  small  one,  if  that's  it,"  said 


110  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

the  boy.  "  What  are  you  putting  that  little  pile  of  mo- 
ney by  itself  for  ?" 

"  For  you,  Charley." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  Get  out  of  bed,  Charley,  and  get  washed  and  dressed, 
and  then  I'll  tell  you." 

Her  composed  manner,  and  her  low  distinct  voice,  al- 
ways had  an  influence  over  him.  His  head  was  soon  in  a 
basin  of  water,  and  out  of  it  again,  and  staring  at  her 
through  a  storm  of  toweling. 

"  I  never,"  toweling  at  himself  as  if  he  were  his  bitter- 
est enemy,  "  saw  such  a  girl  as  you  are.  What  is  the 
move,  Liz  ?" 

"  Are  you  almost  ready  for  breakfast,  Charley  ?" 

"  You  can  pour  it  out.  Hal-loa  1  I  say  ?  And  a  bun- 
dle ?" 

"  And  a  bundle,  Charley." 

"  You  don't  mean  it's  for  me,  too  ?" 

11  Yes,  Charley  ;  I  do,  indeed." 

More  serious  of  face,  and  more  slow  of  action,  than  ho 
had  been,  the  boy  completed  his  dressing,  and  came  and 
sat  down  at  the  little  breakfast  table,  with  his  eyes 
amazedly  directed  to  her  face. 

"  You  see,  Charley  dear,  I  have  made  up  my  mind  that 
this  is  the  right  time  for  your  going  away  from  us.  Over 
and  above  all  the  blessed  change  of  by-and-by,  you'll  be 
much  happier,  and  do  much  better,  even  so  soon  as  next 
month.     Even  so  soon  as  next  week." 

11  How  do  you  know  I  shall  ?" 

"  I  don't  quite  know  how,  Charley,  but  I  do."  In  spite 
of  her  unchanged  manner  of  speaking,  and  her  unchanged 
appearance  of  composure,  she  scarcely  trusted  herself  to 


OUR  MUTUAL   FRIEND.  Ill 

look  at  him,  but  kept  her  eyes  employed  on  the  cutting 
and  buttering  of  his  bread,  and  on  the  mixing  of  his  tea, 
and  other  such  little  preparations.  "  You  must  leave  fa- 
ther to  me,  Charley — I  will  do  what  I  can  with  him — but 
you  must  go." 

"  You  don't  stand  upon  ceremony,  I  think,"  grumbled 
the  boy,  throwing  his  bread  and  butter  about,  in  an  ill- 
humor. 

She  made  him  no  answer. 

"I  tell  you  what,"  said  the  boy,  then,  bursting  out  into 
an  angry  whimpering,  "you're  a  selfish  jade,  and  you 
think  there's  not  enough  for  three  of  us,  and  you  want  to 
get  rid  of  me." 

u  If  you  believe  so,  Charley, — yes,  then  I  believe  too, 
that  I  am  a  selfish  jade,  and  that  I  think  there's  not  enough 
for  three  of  us,  and  that  I  want  to  get  rid  of  you." 

It  was  only  when  the  boy  rushed  at  her,  and  threw  his 
arms  round  her  neck,  that  she  lost  her  self-restraint.  But 
she  lost  it  then,  and  wept  over  him. 

11  Don't  cry,  don't  cry  !  I  am  satisfied  to  go,  Liz  ;  I 
am  satisfied  to  go.  I  know  you  send  me  away  for  my 
good." 

"  0,  Charley,  Charley,  Heaven  above  us  knows  I  do  !" 

"  Yes,  yes.  Don't  mind  what  I  said.  Don't  remem- 
ber it.     Kiss  me." 

After  a  silence,  she  loosed  him,  to  dry  her  eyes  and  re- 
gain her  strong  quiet  influence. 

"  Now  listen,  Charley  dear.  We  both  know  it  must  be 
done,  and' I  alone  know  there  is  good  reason  for  its  being 
done  at  once.  Go  straight  to  the  school,  and  say  that 
you  and  I  agreed  upon  it — that  we  can't  overcome  father's 
opposition — that  father  will  never  trouble  them,  but  will 


112  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

never  take  you  back.  You  are  a  credit  to  the  school,  and 
you  will  be  a  greater  credit  to  it  yet,  and  they  will  help 
you  to  get  a  living.  Show  what  clothes  you  have  brought, 
and  what  money,  and  say  that  I  will  send  some  more  mo- 
ney. If  I  can  get  some  in  no  other  way,  I  will  ask  a  lit- 
tle help  of  those  two  gentlemen  who  came  here  that 
night." 

"  I  say  !"  cried  her  brother,  quickly.  "  Don't  you  have 
it  of  that  chap  that  took  hold  of  me  by  the  chin  !  Don't 
you  have  it  of  that  Wrayburn  one  1" 

Perhaps  a  slight  additional  tinge  of  red  flashed  up  into 
her  face  and  brow,  as  with  a  nod  she  laid  a  hand  upon 
his  lips  to  keep  him  silently  attentive. 

"  And  above  all  things  mind  this,  Charley  !  Be  sure 
you  always  speak  well  of  father.  Be  sure  you  always 
give  father  his  full  due.  You  can't  deny  that  because  fa- 
ther has  no  learning  himself  he  is  set  against  it  in  you  ; 
but  favor  nothing  else  against  him,  and  be  sure  you  say — 
as  you  know — that  your  sister  is  devoted  to  him.  And 
if  you  should  ever  happen  to  hear  any  thing  said  against 
father  that  is  new  to  you,  it  will  not  be  true.  Remember, 
Charley  !     It  will  not  be  true." 

The  boy  looked  at  her  with  some  doubt  and  surprise, 
but  she  went  on  again  without  heeding  it. 

"  Above  all  things  remember  !  It  will  not  be  true.  I 
have  nothing  more  to  say,  Charley  dear,  except,  be  good, 
and  get  learning,  and  only  think  of  some  things  in  the  old 
life  here,  as  if  you  had  dreamed  them  in  a  dream  last 
night.     Good-by,  my  Darling  I" 

Though  so  young,  she  infused  into  these  parting  words 
a  love  that  was  far  more  like  a  mother's  than  a  sister's, 
and  before  which  the  boy  was  quite  bowed  down.     After 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND.  113 

holding  her  to  his  breast  with  a  passionate  cry,  he  took 
up  his  bundle  and  darted  out  at  the  door,  with  an  arm 
across  hi£  eyes. 

The  white  face  of  the  winter  day  came  sluggishly  on, 
veiled  in  a  frosty  mist  ;  and  the  shadowy  ships  in  the  riv- 
er slowly  changed  to  black  substances  ;  and  the  sun, 
blood-red  on  the  eastern  marshes  behind  dark  masts  and 
yards,  seemed  filled  with  the  ruins  of  a  forest  it  had  set 
on  fire.  Lizzie,  looking  for  her  father,  saw  him  coming, 
and  stood  upon  the  causeway  that  he  might  see  her. 

He  had  nothing  with  him  but  his  boat,  and  came  on 
apace.  A  knot  of  those  amphibious  human-creatures  who 
appear  to  have  some  mysterious  power  of  extracting  a  sub- 
sistence out  of  tidal  water  by  looking  at  it,  were  gathered 
together  about  the  causeway.  As  her  father's  boat 
grounded,  they  became  contemplative  of  the  mud,  and  dis- 
persed themselves.  She  saw  that  the  mute  avoidance  had 
begun. 

Gaffer  saw  it,  too,  in  so  far  that  he  was  moved  when 
he  set  foot  on  shore,  to  stare  around  him.  But,  he 
promptly  set  to  work  to  haul  up  his  boat,  and  make 
her  fast,  and  take  the  sculls  and  rudder  and  rope  out  of 
her.  Carry iug  these  with  Lizzie's  aid,  he  passed  up  to  his 
dwelling. 

"  Sit  close  to  the  fire,  father,  dear,  while  I  cook  your 
breakfast.  It's  all  ready  for  cooking,  and  only  been  wait- 
ing for  you.     You  must  be  frozen." 

"  Well,  Lizzie,  I  ain't  of  a  glow  ;  that's  certain.  And 
my  hands  seemed  nailed  through  to  the  sculls.  See  how 
dead  they  are  !"  Something  suggestive  in  their  color,  and 
perhaps  in  her  face,  struck  him  as  he  held  them  up  ;  he 
turned  his  shoulder  and  held  them  down  to  the  fire. 


114  OUE  MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

"  You  were  not  out  in  the  perishing  night,  I  hope,  far- 
ther ?" 

11  No,  my  dear.  Lay  aboard  a  barge,  by  a,  blazing 
coal-fire. — Where's  that  boy  ?" 

"  There's  a  drop  of  brandy  for  your  tea,  father,  if  you'll 
put  it  in  while  I  turn  this  bit  of  meat.  If  the  river  was 
to  get  frozen,  there  would  be  a  deal  of  distress  ;  wouldn't 
there,  father  ?" 

"  Ah  !  there's  always  enough  of  that,"  said  Gaffer, 
dropping  the  liquor  into  his  cup  from  a  squat  black  bot- 
tle, and  dropping  it  slowly  that  it  might  be  seen  more  ; 
"  distress  is  forever  a-going  about,  like  sut  in  the  air. — 
Ain't  that  boy  up  yet  V 

"  The  meat's  ready  now,  father.  Eat  it  while  it's  hot 
and  comfortable.  After  you  have  finished,  we'll  turn  round 
to  the  fire  and  talk." 

But,  he  perceived  that  he  was  evaded,  and  having 
thrown  a  hasty  angry  glance  toward  the  bunk,  plucked  at 
a  corner  of  her  apron  and  asked  : 

"  What's  gone  with  that  boy  ?" 

'•  Father,  if  you'll  begin  your  breakfast,  I'll  sit  by  and 
tell  you." 

He  looked  at  her,  stirred  his  tea  and  took  two  or  three 
gulps,  then  -cut  at  his  piece  of  hot  steak  with  his  case-knife, 
and  said,  eating  : 

"  Now  then.     What's  gone  with  that  boy  ?" 

"  Don't  be  angry,  dear.  It  seems,  father,  that  he  has 
quite  a  gift  of  learning." 

"  Unnat'ral  young  beggar  !"  said  the  parent,  shaking 
his  knife  in  the  air. 

"  — And  that  having  this  gift,  and  not  being  equally 
good  at  other  things,  he  has  made  shift  to  get  some 
schoolmsf." 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND.  115 

"  Unnat'ral  young  beggar  !"  said  the  parent  again,  with 
his  former  action. 

"  — And  that  knowing  you  have  nothing  to  spare,  fa- 
ther, and  not  wishing  to  be  a  burden  on  you,  he  gradual- 
ly made  up  his  mind  to  go  seek  his  fortune  out  of  learning. 
He  went  away  this  morning,  father,  and  he  cried  very 
much  at  going,  and  he  hoped  you  would  forgive  him." 

"  Let  him  never  come  a  nigh  me  to  ask  me  my  forgive- 
ness," said  the  father,  again  emphasizing  his  words  with 
the  knife.  "  Let  him  never  come  within  sight  of  my  eyes, 
nor  yet  within  reach  of  my  arm.  His  own  father  ain't 
good  enough  for  him.  He's  disowned  his  own  father. 
His  own  father  therefore  disowns  him  for  ever  and  ever, 
as  a  unnat'ral  young  beggar." 

He  had  pushed  away  his  plate.  With  the  natural  need 
of  a  strong  rough  man  in  anger,  to  do  something  forcible, 
he  now  clutched  his  knife  overhand,  and  struck  downward 
with  it  at  the  end  of  every  succeeding  sentence.  As  he 
would  have  struck  with  his  own  clenched  fist  if  there  had 
chanced  to  be  nothing  in  it. 

"  He's  welcome  to  go.  He's  more  welcome  to  go  than 
to  stay.  But  let  him  never  come  back.  Let  him  never 
put  his  head  inside  that  door.  And  let  you  never  speak 
a  word  more  in  his  favor,  or  you'll  disown  your  own  fa- 
ther, likewise,  and  what  your  father  says  of  him  he'll  have 
to  come  to  say  of  you.  Now  I  see  why  them  men  yonder 
held  aloof  from  me.  They  says  to  one  another,  '  Here 
tomes  the  man  as  ain't  good  enough  for  his  own  son  !' 
Lizzie —  !" 

But,  she  stopped  him  with  a  cry.  Looking  at  her  he 
saw  her,  with  a  face  quite  strange  to  him,  shrinking  back 
against  the  wall,  with  her  hands  before  her  eyes. 


116  OUTS  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 

"  Father,  don't  !  I  can't  bear  to  see  you  striking  with 
it.     Put  it  down  I" 

He  looked  at  the  knife  ;  but  in  his  astonishment  still 
held  it. 

"  Father,  it's  too  horrible.  O  put  it  down,  put  it 
down  !" 

Confounded  by  her  appearance  and  exclamation,  he  toss- 
ed it  away,  and  stood  up  with  his  open  hands  held  out  be- 
fore him. 

"What's  come  to  you,  Liz?  Can  you  think  I  would 
strike  at  you  with  a  knife  ?" 

"  No,  father,  no  ;  you  would  never  hurt  me." 

"What  should  I  hurt?" 

11  Nothing,  dear  father.  On  my  knees,  I  am  certain, 
in  my  heart  and  soul  I  am  certain,  nothing  !  But  it  was 
too  dreadful  to  bear  ;  for  it  looked — "  her  hands  cover- 
ing her  face  again,  "  O  it  looked — " 

11  What  did  it  look  like  ?" 

The  recollection  of  his  murderous  figure,  combining  with 
her  trial  of  last  night,  and  her  trial  of  the  morning,  caused 
her  to  drop  at  his  feet,  without  having  answered. 

He  had  never  seen  her  so  before.  He  raised  her  with 
the  utmost  tenderness,  calling  her  the  best  of  daughters, 
and  "  my  poor  pretty  creetur,"  and  laid  her  head  upon 
his  knee,  and  tried  to  restore  her.  But  failing,  he  laid 
her  head  gently  down  again,  got  a  pillow  and  placed  it 
under  her  dark  hair,  and  sought  on  the  table  for  a  spoon- 
ful of  brandy.  There  being  none  left,  he  hurriedly  caught 
up  the  empty  bottle,  and  ran  out  at  the  door. 

He  returned  as  hurriedly  as  he  had  gone,  with  the  bot- 
tle still  empty.  He  kneeled  down  by  her,  took  her  head 
on  his  arm,  and  moistened  her  lips  with  a  little  water  into 


OIJK  MUTUAL  FRIEND.  117 

which  he  dipped  his  fingers  :  saying,  fiercely,  as  he  looked 
around,  now  over  this  shoulder,  now  over  that : 

"  Have  we  got  a  pest  in  the  house  ?  Is  there  summ'at 
deadly  sticking  to  my  clothes  ?  What's  let  loose  upon 
us  ?    Who  loosed  it  ?" 


118  OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


CHAPTER  Yli 

MR.    WEGG   LOOKS   AFTER   HIMSELF 

Silas  Wegg,  being  on  his  road  to  the  Roman  Empire, 
approaches  it  by  way  of  Clerkenwell.  The  time  is  early 
in  the  evening  ;  the  weather  moist  and  raw.  Mr.  "Wegg 
finds  leisure  to  make  a  little  circuit,  by  reason  that  he 
folds  his  screen  early,  now  that  he  combines  another  source 
of  income  with  it,  and  also  that  he  feels  it  due  to  himself 
to  be  anxiously  expected  at  the  Bower.  "  Boffin  will  get 
all  the  eagerer  for  waiting  a  bit,"  says  Silas,  screwing  up, 
as  he  stumps  along,  first  his  right  eye,  and  then  his  left. 
Which  is  something  superfluous  in  him,  for  Nature  has  al- 
ready screwed  both  pretty  tight. 

"  If  I  get  on  with  him  as  I  expect  to  get  on,"  Silas 
pursues,  stumping  and  meditating,  "  it  wouldn't  become 
me  to  leave  it  here.  It  wouldn't  be  respectable."  Ani- 
mated by  this  reflection,  he  stumps  faster,  and  looks  a 
long  way  before  him,  as  a  man  with  an  ambitious  project 
in  abeyance  often  will  do. 

Aware  of  a  working-jeweler  population  taking  sanctu 
ary  about  the  church  in  Clerkenwell,  Mr.  Wegg  is  con- 
scious of  an  interest  in,  and  a  respect  for,  the  neighbor- 
hood. But,  his  sensations  in  this  regard  halt  as  to  their 
strict  morality,  as  he  halts  in  his  gait ;  for,  they  suggest 
the  delights  of  a  coat  of  invisibility  in  which  to  walk  off 


OUE  MUTUAL  FRIEND.  119 

safely  with  the  precious  stones  and  watchcases,  but  stop 
short  of  any  compunction  for  the  people  who  would  lose 
the  same. 

Not,  however,  toward  the  u  shops"  where  cunning  arti- 
ficers work  in  pearls  and  diamonds  and  gold  and  silver, 
making  their  hands  so  rich,  that  the  enriched  water  in 
which  they  wash  them  is  bought  for  the  refiners  ; — not  to- 
ward these  does  Mr.  Wegg  stump,  but  toward  the  poorer 
shops  of  small  retail  traders  in  commodities  to  eat  and 
drink  and  keep  folks  warm,  and  of  Italian  frame-makers, 
and  of  barbers,  and  of  brokers,  and  of  dealers  in  dogs  and 
singing-birds.  From  these,  in  a  narrow  and  a  dirty  street 
devoted  to  such  callings,  Mr.  Wegg  selects  one  dark  shop 
window  with  a  tallow-candle  dimly  burning  in  it,  sur- 
rounded by  a  muddle  of  objects  vaguely  resembling  pieces 
of  leather  and  dry  stick,  but  among  which  nothing  is  re- 
solvable into  anything  distinct,  save  the  candle  itself  in 
its  old  tin  candlestick,  and  two  preserved  frogs  fighting  a 
small-sword  duel.  Stumping  with  fresh  vigor,  he  goes  in 
at  the  dark  greasy  entry,  pushes  a  little  greasy  dark  re- 
luctant side-door,  and  follows  the  door  into  the  little  dark 
greasy  shop.  It  is  so  dark  that  nothing  can  be  made  out 
in  it,  over  a  little  counter,  but  another  tallow-candle  in 
another  old  tin  candlestick,  close  to  the  face  of  a  man 
stooping  low  in  a  chair. 

Mr.  Wegg  nods  to  the  face,  "  Good-evening." 
The  face  looking  up  is  a  sallow  face  with  weak  eyes, 
surmounted  by  a  tangle  of  reddish-dusty  hah*.  The  own- 
er of  the  face  has  no  cravat  on,  and  has  opened  his  tum- 
bled shirt-collar  to  work  with  the  more  ease.  For  the 
same  reason  he  has  no  coat  on  :  only  a  loose  waistcoat 
over  his  yellow  linen.     His  eyes  are  like  the  over-tried 


120  OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 

eyes  of  an  engraver,  but  he  is  not  that  ;  his  expression 
and  stoop  are  like  those  of  a  shoemaker,  but  he  is  not 
that. 

"  Good-evening,  Mr.  Yenus.    Don't  you  remember  V* 

With  slowly  dawning  remembrance  Mr.  Yenus  rises, 
and  holds  his  candle  over  the  little  counter,  and  holds  it 
down  toward  the  legs,  natural  and  artificial,  of  Mr.  Wegg. 

"To  be  sure  /"  he  says,  then.     "  How  do  you  do  V* 

"  Wegg,  you  know,"  that  gentleman  explains. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  says  the  other.     "  Hospital  amputation  V 

"  Just  so,"  says  Mr.  Wegg. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  quoth  Yenus.  "  How  do  you  do  ?  Sit 
down  by  the  fire,  and  warm  your — your  other  one." 

The  little  counter  being  so  short  a  counter  that  it  leaves 
the  fire-place,  which  would  have  been  behind  it  if  it  had 
been  longer,  accessible,  Mr.  Wegg  sits  down  on  a  box  in 
front  of  the  fire,  and  inhales  a  warm  and  comfortable 
smell  which  is  not  the  smell  of  the  shop.  "  For  that," 
Mr.  Wegg  inwardly  decides,  as  he  takes  a  corrective  sniff 
or  two,  "is  musty,  Lathery,  feathery,  cellary,  gluey, 
gummy,  and,"  with  another  sniff,  "  as  it  might  be,  strong 
of  old  pairs  of  bellows." 

"My  tea  is  drawing,  and  my  inuffin  is  on  the  hob,  Mr. 
Wegg  ;  will  you  partake  ?" 

It  being  one  of  Mr.  Wegg's  guiding  rules  in  life  always 
to  partake,  he  says  he  will.  But,  the  little  shop  is  so  ex- 
cessively dark,  is  stuck  so  full  of  black  shelves  and  brack- 
ets and  nooks  and  corners,  that  he  sees  Mr.  Yenus's  cup 
and  saucer  only  because  it  is  close  under  the  candle,  and 
does  not  see  from  what  mysterious  recess  Mr.  Yenus  pro- 
duces another  for  himself,  until  it  is  under  his  nose.  Con- 
currently, Wegg  perceives  a  pretty  little  dead  bird  lying 


OUR  MUTUAL  FKIEND.  121 

on  the  counter,  with  its  head  drooping  on  one  side  against 
the  rim  of  Mr.  Yenus's  saucer,  and  a  long  stiff  wire  pierc- 
ing its  breast.  As  if  it  were  Cock  Robin,  the  hero  of  the 
ballad,  and  Mr.  Yenus  were  the  sparrow  with  his  bow 
and  arrow,  and  Mr.  Wegg  were  the  fly  with  his  little 
eye. 

Mr.  Yenus  dives,  and  produces  another  muffin,  yet  un- 
toasted  ;  taking  the  arrow  out  of  the  breast  of  Cock 
Robin,  he  proceeds  to  toast  it  on  the  end  of  the  cruel  in- 
strument. When  it  is  brown,  he  dives  again  and  produces 
butter,  with  which  he  completes  his  work. 

Mr.  Wegg,  as  an  artful  man  who  is  sure  of  his  supper 
by-and-by,  presses  muffin  on  his  host  to  soothe  him  into  a 
compliant  state  of  mind,  or  as  one  might  say,  to  grease 
his  works.  As  the  muffins  disappear,  little  by  little,  the 
black  shelves  and  nooks  and  corners  begin  to  appear,  and 
Mr.  Wegg  gradually  acquires  an  imperfect  notion  that 
over  against  him  on  the  chimney-piece  is  a  Hindoo  baby 
in  a  bottle,  curved  up  with  his  big  head  tucked  under  him, 
as  though  he  would  instantly  throw  a  somersault  if  the 
bottle  were  large  enough. 

Wken  he  deems  Mr.  Yenus's  wheels  sufficiently  lubri- 
cated, Mr.  Wegg  approaches  his  object  by  asking,  as  he 
lightly  taps  his  hands  together,  to  express  an  undesigning 
frame  of  mind  : 

"  And  how  have  I  been  going  on,  this  long  time,  Mr. 
Yenus  V 

"  Yery  bad,"  says  Mr.  Yenus,  uncompromisingly. 

"  What  ?  Am  I  still  at  home  ?"  asks  Wegg,  with  an 
Air  of  surprise. 

"  Always  at  home." 

This  would  seem  to  be  secretly  agreeable  to  Wegg,  but 


122  OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 

he  veils  his  feelings,  and  observes,  -"  Strange.  To  what 
do  you  attribute  it  ?" 

11 1  don't  know,"  replies  Yenus,  who  is  a  haggard 
melancholy  man,  speaking  in  a  weak  voice  of  querulous 
complaint,  "  to  what  to  attribute  it,  Mr.  Wegg.  I  can't 
work  you  into  a  miscellaneous  one  nohow.  Do  what  I 
will,  you  can't  be  got  to  fit.  Any  body  with  a  passable 
knowledge  would  pick  you  out  at  a  look,  and  say, — '  No 
go  !     Don't  match  !' " 

"  Well,  but  hang  it,  Mr.  Yenus,"  Wegg  expostulates 
with  some  little  irritation,  "  that  can't  be  personal  and 
peculiar  in  me.  It  must  often  happen  with  miscellaneous 
ones." 

"With  ribs  (I  grant  you)  always.  But  not  else. 
When  I  prepare  a  miscellaneous  one,  I  know  beforehand 
that  I  can't  keep  to  nature,  and  be  miscellaneous  with 
ribs,  because  every  man  has  his  own  ribs,  and  no  other 
man's  will  go  with  them  ;  but  elseways  I  can  be  miscella- 
neous. I  have  just  sent  home  a  Beauty — a  perfect 
Beauty — to  a  school  of  art.  One  leg  Belgian,  one  leg 
English,  and  the  pickings  of  eight  other  people  in  it. 
Talk  of  not  being  qualified  to  be  miscellaneous  1  By 
rights  you  ought  to  be,  Mr.  Wegg." 

Silas  looks  as  hard  at  his  one  leg  as  he  can  in  the  dim 
light,  and  after  a  pause  sulkily  opines  "  that  it  must  be 
the  fault  of  the  other  people.  Or  how  do  you  mean  to 
say  it  comes  about  V}  he  demands  impatiently. 

li  I  don't  know  how  it  comes  about.  Stand  up  a  minute. 
Hold  the  light."  Mr.  Yenus  takes  from  a  corner  by  his 
chair  the  bones  of  a  leg  and  foot,  beautifully  pure,  and 
put  together  with  exquisite  neatness.  These  he  compares 
with  Mr.  Wegg's  leg  ;  that  gentleman  looking  on,  as  if 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  123 

he  were  being  measured  for  a  riding-boot.  "  No,  I  don't 
know  how  it  is,  but  so  it  is.  You  have  got  a  twist  in 
that  bone,  to  the  best  of  nay  belief.  I  never  saw  the 
likes  of  you." 

"Mr.  Wegg  having  looked  distrustfully  at  his  own 
limb,  and  suspiciously  at  the  pattern  with  which  it  has 
been  compared,  makes  the  point  : 

"  I'll  bet  a  pound  that  ain't  an  English  one  !" 

11  An  easy  wager,  when  we  run  so  much  into  foreign  ! 
No,  it  belongs  to  that  French  gentleman." 

As  he  nods  towards  a  point  of  darkness  behind  Mr. 
Wegg,  the  latter,  with  a  slight  start,  looks  round  for 
"  that  French  gentleman,"  whom  he  at  length  descries  to 
be  represented  (in  a  very  workman-like  manner)  by  his 
ribs  only,  standing  on  a  shelf  in  another  corner,  like  a 
piece  of  armor  or  a  pair  of  stays. 

11  Oh  !"  says  Mr.  Wegg,  with  a  sort  of  sense  of  being 
introduced  ;  "  I  dare  say  you  were  all  right  enough  in 
your  own  country,  but  I  hope  no  objections  will  be  taken 
to  my  saying  that  the  Frenchman  was  never  yet  born  as 
I  should  wish  to  match." 

At  this  moment  the  greasy  door  is  violently  pushed  in- 
ward, and  a  boy  follows  it,  who  says,  after  having  let  it 
slam  : 

"  Come  for  the  stuffed  canary." 

"  It's  three  and  ninepence,"  returns  Yenus  ;  "  have 
you  got  the  money  ?" 

The  boy  produces  four  shillings.  Mr.  Yenus,  always  in 
exceedingly  low  spirits  and  making  whimpering  sounds, 
peers  about  for  the  stuffed  canary.  On  his  taking  the 
candle  to  assist  his  search,  Mr.  Wegg  observes  that  he 
has  a  convenient  little  shelf  near  his  knees,  exclusively 


124:  OUK  MUTUAL  FEIEND. 

appropriated  to  skeleton  hands,  which  have  very  much 
the  appearance  of  wanting  to  lay  hold  of  him .  From 
these  Mr.  Yenus  rescues  the  canary  in  a  glass  case,  and 
shows  it  to  the  boy. 

"  There  I"  he  whimpers.  "  There's  animation  !  On  a 
twig,  making  up  his  mind  to  hop  1  Take  care  of  him  ; 
he's  a  lovely  specimen.     And  there  is  four." 

The  boy  gathers  up  his  change,  and  has  pulled  the  door 
open  by  a  leather  strap  nailed  to  it  for  the  purpose,  when 
Tenus  cries  out  : 

"  Stop  him  !  Come  back,  you  young  villain  !  You've 
got  a  tooth  among  them  half-pence." 

"  How  was  I  to  know  I'd  got  it  ?  You  giv  it  me. 
I  don't  want  none  of  your  teeth  ;  I've  got  enough  of  my 
own."  So  the  boy  pipes,  as  he  selects  it  from  his  change, 
and  throws  it  on  the  counter. 

"  Don't  sauce  me,  in  the  wicious  pride  of  your  youth," 
Mr.  Yenus  retorts  pathetically.  "  Don't  hit  me  because 
you  see  I'm  down.  I'm  low  enough  without  that.  It 
dropped  into  the  till,  I  suppose.  They  drop  into  every 
thing.  There  was  two  in  the  cojjfee-pot  at  breakfast-time. 
Molars." 

"  Very  well,  then,"  argues  the  boy,  "  what  do  you  call 
names  for  ?" 

To  which  Mr.  Venus  only  replies,  shaking  his  shock  of 
dusty  hair,  and  winking  his  weak  eyes,  "  Don't  sauce  me, 
n  the  wicious  pride  of  your  youth  j  don't  hit  me,  because 
you  see  I'm  down.  You've  no  idea  how  small  you'd  come 
out,  if  I  had  the  articulating  of  you." 

This  consideration  seems  to  have  its  effect  on  the  boy, 
for  he  goes  out  grumbling. 

"  Oh   dear  me,  dear  me,"  sighs  Mr.  Venus,  heavily, 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  125 

snuffing  the  candle,  "  the  world  that  appeared  so  flowery 
has  ceased  to  blow  1  You're  casting  your  eye  round  the 
shop,  Mr.  Wegg.  Let  me  show  you  a  light.  My  work- 
ing bench.  My  young  man's  bench.  A  Wice.  Tools. 
Bones,  warious.  Skulls,  warious.  Preserved  Indian  baby. 
African  ditto.  Bottled  preparations,  warious.  Every 
thing  within  reach  of  your  hand,  in  good  preservation. 
The  mouldy  ones  atop.  What's  in  those  hampers  ove; 
them  again,  I  don't  quite  remember.  Say  human  warious. 
Cats.  Articulated  English  baby.  Dogs.  Ducks.  Glass 
eyes,  warious.  Mummied  bird.  Dried  cutticle,  warious. 
Oh,  dear  me  !     That's  the  general  panoramic  view." 

Having  so  held  and  waved  the  candle  as  that  all  these 
hetrogeneous  objects  seemed  to  come  forward  obediently 
when  they  were  named,  and  then  retire  again,  Mr.  Venus 
despondently  repeats,  "  Oh  dear  me,  dear  mel"  resumes 
his  seat,  and  with  drooping  despondency  upon  him,  falls 
to  pouring  himself  out  more  tea. 

11  Where  am  I  ?"  asks  Mr.  Wegg. 

"  You're  some  where  in  the  back  shop  across  the  yard, 
Sir  ;  and  speaking  quite  candidly,  I  wish  I'd  never 
bought  you  of  the  Hospital  Porter." 

"  Nqw,  look  here,  what  did  you  give  for  me  ?" 

"  Well,"  replied  Venus,  blowing  his  tea  :  his  head  and 
face  peering  out  of  the  darkness,  over  the  smoke  of  it, 
as  if  he  were  modernizing  the  old  original  rise  in  his 
family  :  "  you  were  one  of  the  warious  lot,  and  I  don't 
know." 

Silas  puts  his  point  in  the  improved  form  of  "  What 
will  you  take  for  me  ?" 

"Well,"  replies  Venus,  still  blowing  his  tea,  "  I'm  not 
prepared,  at  a  moment's  notice,  to  tell  you,  Mr.  Wegg." 
6* 


126  OUR  MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

°  Come  !  According  to  your  own  account  I'm  not 
worth  much,"  Wegg  reasons  persuasively. 

"  ISTot  for  miscellaneous  working  in,  I  grant  you,  Mr. 
Wegg  ;  but  you  might  turn  out  valuable  yet,  as  a — " 
here  Mr.  Venus  takes  a  gulp  of  tea,  so  hot  that  it  makes 
him  choke,  and  sets  his  weak  eyes  watering  ;  "as  a  Mon- 
strosity, if  you'll  excuse  me." 

Repressing  an  indignant  look,  indicative  of  any  thing 
but  a  disposition  to  excuse  him,  Silas  pursues  his  point. 

"I  think  you  know  me,  Mr.  Venus,  and  T  think  you 
know  I  never  bargain." 

Mr.  Venus  takes  gulps  of  hot  tea,  shutting  his  eyes  at 
every  gulp,  and  opening  them  again  in  a  spasmodic  man- 
ner ;  but  does  not  commit  himself  to  assent. 

"  I  have  a  prospect  of  getting  on  in  life  and  elevating 
myself  by  my  own  independent  exertions,"  says  Wegg, 
feelingly,  "and  I  shouldn't  like — I  tell  you  openly  I 
should  not  like — under  such  circumstances,  to  be  what  I 
may  call  dispersed,  a  part  of  me  here,  and  a  part  of  me 
there,  but  should  wish  to  collect  myself  like  a  gentle 
person." 

"  It's  a  prospect  at  present,  is  it,  Mr.  Wegg  ?  Then 
you  haven't  got  the  money  for  a  deal  about  you  ?  Then 
I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do  with  you  ;  I'll  hold  you  over. 
I  am  a  man  of  my  word,  and  you  needn't  be  afraid  of  my 
disposing  of  you.  I'll  hold  you  over.  That's  a  promise. 
Oh  dear  me,  dear  me  !" 

Fain  to  accept  his  promise,  and  wishing  to  propitiate 
him,  Mr.  Wegg  looks  on  as  he  sighs  and  pours  himself 
out  more  tea,  and  then  says,  trying  to  get  a  sympathetic 
tone  into  his  voice  : 

"  You  seem  very  low,  Mr.  Venus.     Is  business  bad  ?" 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  127 

"  Never  was  so  good." 

"  Is  your  band  out  at  all  V* 

"  Never  was  so  well  in.  Mr.  Wegg,  I'm  not  only  first 
in  the  trade,  but  Fm  the  trade.  You  may  go  and  buy  a 
skeleton  at  the  West  End  if  you  like,  and  pay  the  West 
End  price,  but  it'll  be  my  putting  together.  Fve  as  much 
to  do  as  I  can  possibly  do,  with  the  assistance  of  my 
young  man,  and  I  take  a  pride  and  a  pleasure  in  it." 

Mr.  Venus  thus  delivers  himself,  his  right  hand  ex- 
tended, his  smoking  saucer  in  his  left  hand,  protesting 
as  though  he  were  going  to  burst  into  a  flood  of  tears. 

"  That  ain't  a  state  of  things  to  make  you  low,  Mr. 
Yenus." 

"  Mr.  Wegg,  I  know  it  ain't.  Mr.  Wegg,  not  to 
name  myself  as  a  workman  without  an  equal,  I've  gone 
on  improving  myself  in  my  knowledge  of  Anatomy,  till 
both  by  sight  and  by  name  I'm  perfect.  Mr.  Wegg,  if 
you  was  brought  here  loose  in  a  bag  to  be  articulated,  I'd 
name  your  smallest  bones  blindfold  equally  with  your 
largest,  as  fast  as  I  could  pick  'em  out,  and  I'd  sort  'em 
all,  and  sort  your  wertebras,  in  a  manner  that  would 
equally  surprise  and  charm  you." 

11  Well,"  remarks  Silas  (though  not  quite  so  readily  as 
last  time),  "  that  ain't  a  state  of  things  to  be  low  about. 
Not  for  you  to  be  low  about,  leastways." 

"  Mr.  Wegg,  I  know  it  ain't  ;  Mr.  Wegg,  I  know  it 
ain't.  But  it's  the  heart  that  lowers  me  ;  it  is  the  heart ! 
Be  so  good  as  take  and  read  that  card  out  aloud." 

Silas  receives  one  from  his  hand,  which  Yenus  takes 
from  a  wonderful  litter  in  a  drawer,  and  putting  on  his 
spectacles,  reads  : 

"  '  Mr.  Yenus.'  " 


128  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

11  Yes.     Go  on." 

"  '  Preserver  of  Animals  and  Birds." 

"  Yes.     Go  on." 

"  '  Articulator  of  Human  Bones.'" 

"  That's  it,"  with  a  groan.  "  That's  it  !  Mr.  Wegg, 
I'm  thirty-two  and  a  bachelor.  Mr.  Wegg,  I  love  her. 
Mr.  Wegg,  she  is  worthy  of  being  loved  by  a  Potentate." 
Here  Silas  is  rather  alarmed  by  Mr.  Venus  springing  to 
his  feet  in  the  hurry  of  his  spirits,  and  haggardly  con- 
fronting him  with  his  hand  on  his  coat  collar  ;  but  Mr. 
Yenus,  begging  pardon,  sits  down  again,  saying,  with  the 
calmness  of  despair,  "  She  objects  to  the  business." 

"  Does  she  know  the  profits  of  it  ?" 

"  She  knows  the  profits  of  it,  but  she  don't  appreciate 
the  art  of  it,  and  she  objects  to  it.  '  I  do  not  wish,'  she 
writes  in  her  own  handwriting,  '  to  regard  myself,  nor 
yet  to  be  regarded,  in  that  boney  light.' " 

Mr.  Yenus  pours  himself  out  more  tea  with  a  look  and 
in  an  attitude  of  the  deepest  desolation. 

"  And  so  a  man  climbs  to  the  top  of  the  tree,  Mr. 
"Wegg,  only  to  see  that  there's  no  look  out  when  he's  up 
there  !  I  sit  here  of  a  night,  surrounded  by  the  lovely 
trophies  of  my  art,  and  what  have  they  done  for  me  ? 
Ruined  me.  Brought  me  to  the  pass  of  being  informed 
that  '  she  does  not  wish  to  regard  herself,  nor  yet  to  be 
rego.rded,  in  that  boney  light !' "  Having  repeated  the 
fatal  expressions,  Mr.  Yenus  drinks  more  tea  by  gulps, 
and  offers  an  explanation  of  his  doing  so. 

"  It  lowers  me.  When  I'm  equally  lowered  all  over 
lethargy  sets  in.  By  sticking  to  it  till  one  or  two  in  the 
morning,  I  get  oblivion.  Don't  let  me  detain  you,  Mr, 
Wegg.     I'm  not  company  for  any  one." 


OUR  MUTUAL   FRIEND.  129 

"It  is  not  on  that  account,"  says  Silas,  rising,  "  but 
because  I've  got  an  appointment.  It's  time  I  was  at 
Harmon's." 

"Eli?"  said  Mr.  Venus.  "Harmon's,  up  Battle 
Bridge  way  ?" 

Mr.  Wegg  admits  that  he  is  bound  for  that  port. 

"  You  ought  to  be  in  a  good  thing,  if  you've  worked 
yourself  in  there.     There's  lots  of  money  going  there." 

"  To  think,"  said  Silas,  "  that  you  should  catch  it  up 
so  quick,  and  know  about  it.     Wonderful  I" 

"  Not  at  all,  Mr.  Wegg.  The  old  gentleman  wanted 
to  know  the  nature  and  worth  of  every  thing  that  was 
found  in  the  dust  ;  and  many's  the  bone  and  feather,  and 
what  not,  that  he's  brought  to  me." 

"  Really,  now  !" 

"Yes.  (Oh  dear  me,  dear  me  !)  And  he's  buried 
quite  in  this  neighborhood,  you  know.     Over  yonder." 

Mr.  Wegg  does  not  know,  but  he  makes  as  if  he  did, 
by  responsively  nodding  his  head.  He  also  follows  with 
his  eyes  the  toss  of  Venus's  head  ;  as  if  to  seek  a  direction 
to  over  yonder. 

"  I  took  an  interest  in  that  discovery  in  the  river," 
says  Venus.     "  (She  hadn't  written  her  cutting  refusal 

at  that    time.)      I've   got  up   there never    mind 

though." 

He  raised  the  candle  at  arm's-length  toward  one  of  the 
dark  shelves,  and  Mr.  Wegg  had  turned  to  look,  when 
he  broke  off. 

"  The  old  gentleman  was  well  known  all  round  here. 
There  used  to  be  stories  about  his  having  hidden  all 
kinds  of  property  in  those  dust  mounds.  I  suppose  there 
was  nothing  in  'em.     Probably  you  know,  Mr.  Wegg  ?" 


130  OUR   HTJTTJAL   FRIEND. 

"  Nothing  in  'em/'  says  Wegg,  who  has  never  heard  a 
word  of  this  before. 

"  Don't  let  me  detain  you.  Good-night  1" 
The  unfortunate  Mr.  Yenus  gave  him  a  shake  of  the 
hand  with  a  shake  of  his  own.  head,  and  drooping  down 
in  his  chair,  proceeds  to  pour  himself  out  more  tea.  Mr. 
Wegg,  looking  back  over  his  shoulder  as  he  pulls  the 
door  open  by  the  strap,  notices  that  the  movement  so 
shakes  the  crazy  shop,  and  so  shakes  a  momentary  flare 
out  of  the  candle,  as  that  the  babies — Hindoo,  African, 
and  British — the  "  human  warious,"  the  French  gentle- 
man, the  green  glass-eyed  cats,  the  dogs,  the  ducks,  and 
all  the  rest  of  the  collection,  show  for  an  instant  as  if 
paralytically  animated  ;  while  even  poor  little  Cock 
Robin  at  Mr.  Yenus's  elbow  turns  over  on  his  innocent 
side.  Next  moment,  Mr.  Wegg  is  stumping  under  the 
gaslights  and  through  the  mud. 


OUR  MUTUAL   FRIEND.  131 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

MR.    BOFFIN   IN    CONSULTATION. 

Whosoever  had  gone  out  of  Fleet  Street  into  the 
Temple,  at  the  date  of  this  history,  and  had  wandered  dis- 
consolate about  the  Temple  until  he  stumbled  on  a  dismal 
churchyard,  and  had  looked  up  at  the  dismal  windows 
commanding  that  church-yard  until  at  the  most  dismal 
window  of  them  all  he  saw  a  dismal  boy,  would  in  him 
have  beheld,  at  one  grand  comprehensive  swoop  of  the 
eye,  the  managing  clerk,  junior  clerk,  common-law  clerk, 
conveyancing  clerk,  chancery  clerk,  every  refinement  and 
department  of  clerk,  of  Mr.  Mortimer  Lightwood,  ere- 
while  called  in  the  newspapers  eminent  solicitor. 

Mr.  Boffin  having  been  several  times  in  communication 
with  this  clerkly  essence,  both  on  its  own  ground  and  at 
the  Bower,  had  no  difficulty  in  identifying  it  when  he  saw 
it  up  in  its  dusty  eyrie.  To  the  second  floor  on  which  the 
window  was  situated,  he  ascended,  much  preoccupied  in 
mind  by  the  uncertainties  besetting  the  Roman  Empire, 
and  much  regretting  the  death  of  the  amiable  Pertinax  : 
who  only  last  night  had  left  the  imperial  affairs  in  a  state 
of  great  confusion,  by  falling  a  victim  to  the  fury  of  the 
pretorian  guards. 

"  Morning,  morning,  morning  I"  said  Mr.  Boffin,  with 
a  wave  of  his  hand,  as  the  office  door  was  opened  by  the 

7 


132  OUR   MUTUAL   FEIEND. 

dismal  boy,  whose  appropriate  name  was  Blight.  "  Gov- 
ernor in  V 

"  Mr.  Lightwoocl  gave  you  an  appointment,  Sir,  I 
think  V 

" 1  don't  want  him  to  give  it,  you  know,"  returned  Mr. 
Boffin  ;  "  I'll  pay  my  way,  my  boy." 

"  No  doubt,  sir.  Would  you  walk  in  ?  Mr.  Light- 
wood,  ain't  in  at  the  present  moment,  but  I  expect  him 
back  very  shortly.  Would  you  take  a  seat  in  Mr.  Light- 
wood's  room,  Sir,  while  I  look  over  our  Appointment 
Book  ?"  Young  Blight  made  a  great  show  of  fetching 
from  his  desk  a  long,  thin,  manuscript  volume  with  a 
brown  paper  cover,  and  running  his  finger  down  the  day's 
appointments,  murmuring,  "Mr.  Aggs,  Mr.  Baggs,  Mr. 
Caggs,  Mr.  Daggs,  Mr.  Faggs,  Mr.  Gaggs,  Mr.  Boffin, 
Yes,  Sir  ;  quite  right.  You  are  a  little  before  your  time, 
Sir.     Mr.  Lightwood  will  be  in  directly." 

11  I'm  not  in  a  hurry,"  said  Mr.  Boffin. 

"Thank  you,  Sir.  I'll  take  the  opportunity,  if  you 
please,  of  entering  your  name  in  our  Callers'  Book  for  the 
day."  Young  Blight  made  another  great  show  of  chang- 
ing the  volume,  taking  up  a  pen,  sucking  it,  dipping  it, 
and  running  over  previous  enteries  before  he  wrote.  As, 
Mr.  Alley,  Mr.  Bailey,  Mr.  Calley,  Mr.  Dalley,  Mr.  Fal- 
ley,  Mr.  Galley,  Mr.  Halley,  Mr.  Lally,  Mr.  Malley.  And 
Mr.  Boffin  " 

11  Strict  system  here  ;  eh,  my  lad  ?"  said  Mr.  Boffin,  as 
he  was  booked. 

"  Yes,  Sir,"  returned  the  boy.  "J  couldn't  get  on 
without  it." 

By  which  he  probably  meant  that  his  mind  would  have 
been  shattered  to  pieces  without  this  fiction  of  an  occnpa- 


OTJTR   MUTUAL   FRIEOT).  133 

tion.  Wearing  in  his  solitary  confinement  no  fetters  thai 
he  could  polish,  and  being  provided  with  no  drinking-cup 
that  he  could  carve,  he  had  fallen  on  the  device  of  ringing 
alphabetical  changes  into  the  two  volumes  in  question,  or 
of  entering  vast  numbers  of  persons  out  of  the  Directory 
as  transacting  business  with  Mr.  Lightwood.  It  was  the 
more  necessary  for  his  spirits,  because,  being  of  a  sensi- 
tive temperament,  he  was  apt  to  consider  it  personally 
disgraceful  to  himself  that  his  master  had  no  clients. 

11  How  long  have  you  been  in  the  law,  now  ?"  asked 
Mr.  Boffin,  with  a  pounce,  in  his  usual  inquisitive  way. 

"  I've  been  in  the  law,  now,  Sir,  about  three  years." 

"  Must  have  been  as  good  as  born  in  it  I"  said  Mr. 
Boffin,  with  admiration.     "  Do  you  like  it  ?" 

"  I  don't  mind  it  much,"  returned  Blight,  heaving  a 
sigh,  as  if  its  bitterness  were  past. 

"  What  wages  do  you  get  ?" 

11  Half  what  I  could  wish,"  replied  young  Blight. 

"  What's  the  whole  that  you  could  wish  ?" 

11  Fifteen  shillings  a  week,"  said  the  boy. 

11  About  how  long  might  it  take  you  now,  at  a  average 
rate  of  going,  to  be  a  judge  ?"  asked  Mr.  Boffin,  after 
surveying  his  small  stature  in  silence. 

The  boy  answered  that  he  had  not  quite  worked  out 
that  little  calculation. 

"  I  suppose  there's  nothing  to  prevent  your  going  in 
for  it  ?"  said  Mr.  Boffin. 

The  boy  virtually  replied  that  as  he  had  the  honor  to 
be  a  Briton  who  never,  never,  never,  there  was  nothing 
to  prevent  his  going  in  for  it.  Yet  he  seemed  inclined  to 
suspect  that  there  might  be  something  to  prevent  his 
coming  out  with  it. 


134:  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

"  Would  a  couple  of  pound  help  you  up  at  all  ?" 
asked  Mr.  Boffin. 

On  this  head,  young  Blight  had  no  doubt  whatever,  so 
Mr.  Boffin  made  him  a  present  of  that  sum  of  money,  and 
thanked  him  for  his  attention  to  his  (Mr.  Boffin's)  affairs  ; 
which,  he  added,  were  now,  he  believed,  as  good  as 
settled. 

Then  Mr.  Boffin,  with  his  stick  at  his  ear,  like  a  Fa- 
miliar Spirit  explaining  the  office  to  him,  sat  staring  at  a 
little  book-case  of  Law  Practice  and  Law  Reports,  and 
at  a  window,  and  at  an  empty  blue  bag,  and  at  a  stick  of 
sealing-wax,  and  a  pen,  and  a  box  of  wafers,  and  an  ap- 
ple, and  a  writing-pad — all  very  dusty — and  at  a  number 
of  inky  smears  and  blots,  and  at  an  imperfectly-disguised 
gun-case  pretending  to  be  something  legal,  and  at  an  iron 
box  labeled  Harmon  Estate,  until  Mr.  Lightwood  ap- 
peared. 

Mr.  Lightwood  explained  that  he  came  from  the  proc- 
tor's, with  whom  he  had  been  engaged  in  transacting  Mr. 
Boffin's  affairs. 

"  And  they  seem  to  have  taken  a  deal  out  of  you  !" 
said  Mr.  Boffin,  with  commiseration. 

Mr.  Lightwood,  without  explaining  that  bis  weariness 
was  chronic,  proceeded  with  his  exposition  that,  all  forms 
of  law  having  been  at  length  complied  with,  will  of  Har- 
mon deceased  having  been  proved,  death  of  Harmon  next 
inheriting  having  been  proved,  etc.,  and  so  forth,  Court  of 
Chancery  having  been  moved,  etc.,  and  so  forth,  he  Mr. 
Lightwood,  had  now  the  great  gratification,  honor,  and 
happiness,  again  etc.,  and  so  forth,  of  congratulating  Mr. 
Boffin  on  the  coming  into  possession,  as  residuary  legatee, 
of  upward  of  one  hundred  thousand  pounds,  standing  in 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  135 

the  books  of  the  Governor  and  Company  of  the  Bank  of 
England,  again  etc.,  and  so  forth. 

"  And  what  is  particularly  eligible  in  the  property  Mr. 
Boffin,  is,  that  it  involves  no  trouble.  There  are  no 
estates  to  manage,  no  rents  to  return  so  much  per  cent, 
upon  in  bad  times  (which  is  an  extremely  dear  way  of 
getting  your  name  into  the  newspapers),  no  voters  to  be- 
come par-boiled  in  hot  water  with,  no  agents  to  take  the 
cream  off  the  milk  before  it  comes  to  table.  You  could 
put  the  whole  in  a  cash-box  to-morrow  morning,  and  take 
it  with  you  to — say,  to  the  Rocky  Mountains.  Inasmuch 
as  every  man,"  concluded  Mr.  Lightwood,  with  an  in- 
dolent smile,  "  appears  to  be  under  a  fatal  spell  which 
obliges  him,  sooner  or  later,  to  mention  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains in  a  tone  of  extreme  familiarity  to  some  other  man, 
I  hope  you'll  excuse  my  pressing  you  into  the  service  of 
that  gigantic  range  of  geographical  bores." 

Without  following  this  last  remark  very  closely,  Mr. 
Boffin  cast  his  perplexed  gaze  first  at  the  ceiling,  and 
then  at  the  carpet. 

"Well,"  he  remarked,  "I  don't  know  what  to  say 
about  it,  I  am  sure.  I  was  a'most  as  well  as  I  was.  It's 
a  great  lot  to  take  care  of." 

11  My  dear  Mr.  Boffin,  then  donH  take  care  of  it  1" 

"  Eh  ?"  said  that  gentleman. 

"  Speaking  now,"  returned  Mortimer,  "  with  the  irre- 
sponsible imbecility  of  a  private  individual,  and  not  with 
the  profundity  of  a  professional  adviser,  I  should  say  that 
if  the  circumstance  of  its  being  too  much  weighs  upon 
your  mind,  you  have  the  haven  of  consolation  open  to  you 
that  you  can  easily  make  it  less.  And  if  you  should  be 
apprehensive  of  the  trouble  of  doing  so,  there  is  the  fur- 


136  OUR   MUTUAL   FEIE3TD. 

tber  haven  of  consolation  that  any  number  of  people  will 
take  the  trouble  off  your  hands." 

"  Well  !  I  don't  quite  see  it,"  retorted  Mr.  Boffin,  still 
perplexed.  "That's  not  satisfactory,  you  know,  what 
you're  a-saying. 

"Is  Anything  satisfactory,  Mr.  Boffin?"  asked  Mor- 
timer, raising  his  eyebrows. 

"  I  used  to  find  it  so,"  answered  Mr.  Boffin,  with  a 
wistful  look.  "  While  I  was  foreman  at  the  Bower — afore 
it  was  the  Bower — I  considered  the  business  very  satisfac- 
tory. The  old  man  was  a  awful  Tartar  (saying  it,  Fm 
sure,  without  disrespect  to  his  memory,)  but  the  business 
was  a  pleasant  one  to  look  after,  from  before  daylight  to 
past  dark.  It's  a'most  a  pity,"  said  Mr.  Boffin,  rubbing 
his  ear,  "  that  he  ever  went  and  made  so  much  money.  It 
would  have  been  better  for  him  if  he  hadn't  so  given  him- 
self up  to  it.  You  may  depend  upon  it,"  making  the  dis- 
covery all  of  a  sudden,  "  that  he  found  it  a  great  lot  to 
take  care  of !" 

Mr.  Lightwood  coughed,  not  convinced. 

"  And  speaking  of  satisfactory,"  pursued  Mr.  Boffin, 
"  why,  Lord  save  us  !  when  we  come  to  take  it  to  pieces, 
bit  by  bit,  where's  the  satisfactoriness  of  the  money  as 
yet  ?  When  the  old  man  does  right  the  poor  boy  after 
all,  the  poor  boy  gets  no  good  of  it.  He  gets  made  away 
with,  at  the  moment  when  he's  lifting  (as  one  may  say)  the 
cup  and  sarser  to  his  lips.  Mr.  Lightwood,  I  will  now 
name  to  you,  that  on  behalf  of  the  poor  dear  boy,  me  and 
Mrs.  Boffin  have  stood  out  against  the  old  man  times  out 
of  number,  till  he  has  called  us  every  name  he  could  lay 
his  tongue  on.  I  have  seen  him,  after  Mrs.  Boffin  has 
given  him  her  mind  respecting  the  claims  of  the  nat'ral 


CUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  137 

affections,  catch  off  Mrs.  Boffin's  bonnet  (she  wore,  in 
general,  a  black  straw,  perched  as  a  matter  of  conve- 
nience on  the  top  of  her  head),  and  send  it  spinning  across 
the  yard.  I  have  indeed.  And  once,  when  he  did  this 
in  a  manner  that  amounted  to  personal,  I  should  have 
given  him  a  rattler  for  himself,  if  Mrs.  Boffin  hadn't 
thrown  herself  betwixt  us,  and  received  flush  on  the  tem- 
ple. Which  dropped  her,  Mr.  Lightwood.  Dropped 
her." 

Mr.  Lightwood  murmured  "  Equal  honor — Mrs.  Bof- 
fin's head  and  heart." 

"  You  understand  ;  I  name  this,"  pursued  Mr.  Boffin, 
to  show  you,  now  the  affairs  are  wound  up,  that  me  and 
Mrs.  Boffin  have  ever  stood,  as  we  were  in  Christian  honor 
bound,  the  children's  friend.  Me  and  Mrs.  Boffin  stood 
the  poor  girl's  friend  ;  me  and  Mrs.  Boffin  stood  the  poor 
boy's  friend  ;  me  and  Mrs.  Boffin  up  and  faced  the  old 
man  when  we  momently  expected  to  be  turned  out  for  our 
pains.  As  to  Mrs.  Boffin,"  said  Mr.  Boffin,  lowering  his 
voice,  e<  she  mightn't  wish  it  mentioned  now  she's  Fash- 
ionable, but  she  went  so  far  as  to  tell  him,  in  my  presence, 
he  was  a  flinty-hearted  rascal." 

Mr.  Lightwood  murmured  "  Vigorous  Saxon  spirit — 
Mrs.  Boffin's  ancestors — bowmen — Agincourt  and  Cressy." 

"  The  last  time  me  and  Mrs.  Boffin  saw  the  poor  boy," 
said  Mr.  Boffin,  warming  (as  fat  usually  does)  with  a 
tendency  to  melt,  "  he  was  a  child  of  seven  year  old. 
For  when  he  come  back  to  make  intercession  for  his  sis- 
ter, me  and  Mrs.  Boffin  were  away  overlooking  a  country 
contract  which  was  to  be  sifted  before  carted,  and  he  was 
come  and  gone  in  a  single  hour.  I  say  he  was  a  child  of 
seven  year  old.     He  was  going  away,  all  alone  and  for- 


138  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

lorn,  to  that  foreign  school,  and  he  come  into  our  place, 
situate  up  the  yard'of  the  present  Bower,  to  have  a  warm 
at  our  fire.  There  was  his  little  scanty  traveling  clothes 
upon  him.  There  was  his  little  scanty  box  outside  in  the 
shivering  wind,  which  I  was  going  to  carry  for  him  dowu 
to  the  steamboat,  as  the  old  man  wouldn't  hear  of  allow- 
ing a  six-pence  coach-money.  Mrs.  Boffin,  then  quite  a 
young  woman,  and  a  picture  of  a  full-blown  rose,  stands 
him  by  her,  kneels  down  at  the  fire,  warms  her  two  open 
hands,  and  falls  to  rubbing  his  cheeks  ;  but  seeing  the 
tears  come  into  the  child's  eyes,  the  tears  come  fast  into 
her  own,  and  she  holds  him  round  the  neck,  like  as  if  she 
was  protecting  him,  and  cries  to  me,  '  I'd  give  the  wide 
wide  world,  I  would,  to  run  away  with  him  ! '  I  don't 
say  but  what  it  cut  me,  and  but  what  it  at  the  same  time 
heightened  my  feelings  of  admiration  for  Mrs.  Boffin. 
The  poor  child  clings  to  her  for  a  while,  as  she  clings  to 
him,  and  then,  when  the  old  man  calls,  he  says  '  I  must 
go  1  God  bless  you!'  and  for  a  moment  rests  his  heart 
against  her  bosom,  and  looks  up  at  both  of  us,  as  if  it  was 
in  pain — in  agony.  Such  a  look  1  I  went  aboard  with 
him,  (I  gave  him  first  what  little  treat  I  thought  he'd 
like),  and  I  left  him  when  he  had  fallen  asleep  in  his 
berth,  and  I  came  back  to  Mrs.  Boffin.  But  tell  her 
what  I  would  of  how  I  had  left  him,  it  all  weut  for  noth- 
ing, for,  according  to  her  thoughts,  he  never  changed  that 
look  that  he  had  looked  up  at  us  two.  But  it  did  one 
piece  of  good.  Mrs.  Boffin  and  me  had  no  child  of  our 
own,  and  had  sometimes  wished  that  how  we  had  one. 
But  not  now.  '  We  might  both  of  us  die,'  says  Mrs. 
Boffin,  '  and  other  eyes  might  see  that  lonely  look  in  our 
child.'     So  of  a  night,  when  it  was  very  cold,  or  when 


OUR   MUTTTAX   FRIEND.  139 

the  wind  roared,  or  the  rain  dripped  heavy,  she  would 
wake  sobbing,  and  call  out  in  a  fluster,  '  Don't  }tou  see 
the  poor  child's  face  ?  0  shelter  the  poor  child!' — till  in 
the  course  of  years  it  gently  wore  out,  as  many  things 
do." 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Boffin,  everything  wrears  to  rags,"  said 
Mortimer,  with  a  light  laugh. 

"  I  won't  go  so  far  as  to  say  everything,"  returned  Mr. 
Boffin,  on  whom  his  manner  seemed  to  grate,  "  because 
there's  some  things  that  I  never  found  among  the  dust. 
Well,  Sir.  So  Mrs.  Boffin  and  me  grow  older  and  older 
in  the  old  man's  service,  living  and  working  pretty  hard  in 
it,  till  the  old  man  is  discovered  dead  in  his  bed.  Theu 
Mrs.  Boffin  and  me  seal  up  his  box,  always  standing  on 
the  table  at  the  side  of  his  bed,  and  having  frequently 
hcerd  tell  of  the  Temple  as  a  spot  where  lawyers'  dust  is 
contracted  for,  I  come  down  here  in  search  of  a  lawyer 
to  advise,  and  I  see  your  young  man  up  at  this  present 
elevation,  chopping  at  the  flies  on  the  window-sill  with  his 
penknife,  and  I  give  him  a  Hoy  !  not  then  having  the 
pleasure  of  your  acquaintance,  and  by  that  means  come 
to  gain  the  honor.  Then  you,  and  the  gentleman  in  the 
uncomfortable  neckcloth  under  the  little  archway  in  Saint 
^aul's  Church-yard—" 

"  Doctors'  Commons,"  observed  Lightwood. 

"  I  understood  it  was  another  name,"  said  Mr.  Boffin, 
pausing,  "  but  you  know  best.  Then  you  and  Doctor 
Scommons,  you  go  to  work,  and  you  do  the  thing  that's 
proper,  and  you  and  Doctor  S.  take  steps  for  finding  out 
the  poor  boy,  and  at  last  you  do  find  out  the  poor  boy, 
and  me  and  Mrs.  Boffin  often  exchange  the  observation, 
1  We  shall  see  him  again,  under  happy  circumstances.'  But 


140  OUR  MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

it  was  never  to  be  ;  and  the  want  of  satisfactoriness  is, 
that  after  all  the  money  never  gets  to  him." 

"  But  it  gets,"  remarked  Light  wood,  with  a  languid  in- 
clination of  the  head,  "into  excellent  hands." 

11  It  gets  into  the  hands  of  me  and  Mrs.  Boffin  only 
this  very  day  and  hour,  and  that's  what  I  am  working 
round  to,  having  waited  for  this  day  and  hour  a'  purpose. 
Mr.  Lightwood,  here  has  been  a  wicked  cruel  murder.  By 
that  murder  me  and  Mrs.  Boffin  mysteriously  profit.  For 
the  apprehension  and  conviction  of  the  murderer,  we  offer 
a  reward  of  one  tithe  of  the  property — a  reward  of  Ten 
Thousand  Pound." 

"  Mr.  Boffin,  it's  too  much." 

"  Mr.  Lightwood,  me  and  Mrs.  Boffin  have  fixed  the 
sum  together,  and  we  stand  to  it. 

"  But  let  me  represent  to  you,"  returned  Lightwood, 
"  speaking  now  with  professional  profundity,  and  not  with 
individual  imbecility,  that  the  offer  of  such  an  immense 
reward  is  a  temptation  to  forced  suspicion,  forced  con- 
struction of  circumstances,  strained  accusation,  a  whole 
tool-box  of  edged  tools." 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Boffin,  a  little  staggered,  "  that's  the 
sum  we  put  o'  one  side  for  the  purpose.  Whether  it  shall 
be  openly  declared  in  the  new  notices  that  must  now  be 
put  about  in  our  names — " 

•'  In  your  name,  Mr.  Boffin  ;  in  your  name." 

"  Very  well  ;  in  my  name,  which  is  the  same  as  Mrs. 
Boffin's,  and  means  both  of  us,  is  to  be  considered  in 
drawing  'em  up.  But  this  is  the  first  instruction  that  I, 
as  the  owner  of  the  property,  give  to  my  lawyer  on  com- 
ing into  it." 

"  Your  lawyer,  Mr.  Boffin/  returned  Lightwood,  mak- 


OUR  MUTUAL   FRIEND.  141 

ing  a  very  short  note  of  it  with  a  very  rusty  pen,  "  has 
the  gratification  of  taking  the  instruction.  There  is 
another  ?  n 

"  There  is  just  one  other,  and  no  more.  Make  me  as 
compact  a  little  will  as  can  be  reconciled  with  tightness, 
leaving  the  whole  of  the  property  to  '  my  beloved  wife, 
Henerietty  Boffin,  sole  executrix/  Make  it  as  short  as 
you  can,  using  those  words  ;  but  make  it  tight." 

At  some  loss  to  fathom  Mr.  Boffin's  notions  of  a  tight 
will,  Lightwood  felt  his  way. 

11 1  beg  your  pardon,  but  professionally  profundity  must 
be  exact.     When  you  say  tight — " 

"  I  mean  tight,"  Mr.  Boffin  explained. 

"  Exactly  so.  And  nothing  can  be  more  laudable.  But 
is  the  tightness  to  bind  Mrs.  Boffin  to  any  and  what  con- 
ditions V1 

"  Bind  Mrs.  Boffin  ?"  interposed  her  husband.  "  No  ! 
What  are  you  thinking  of  !  What  I  want  is,  to  make  it 
all  hers,  so  tight  as  that  her  hold  of  it  can't  be  loosed." 

"Hers  freely,  to  do  what  she  likes  with?  Hers  ab- 
solutely ?" 

"  Absolutely  ?"  repeated  Mr.  Boffin,  with  a  short  sturdy 
laugh.  "  Hah  !  I  should  think  so  !  It  would  be  hand- 
some in  me  to  begin  to  bind  Mrs.  Boffin  at  this  time  of 
day  !" 

So  that  instruction,  too,  was  taken  by  Mr.  Lightwood; 
and  Mr.  Lightwood,  having  taken  it,  was  in  the  act  of 
showing  Mr.  Boffin  out,  when  Mr.  Eugene  Wrayburn 
almost  jostled  him  in  the  doorway.  Consequently  Mr. 
Lightwood  said,  in  his  cool  manner,  "  Let  me  make  you 
two  known  to  one  another,"  and  further  signified  that  Mr. 
Wrayburn  was  counsel  learned  in  the  law,  and  that,  partly 


142  OTTR   rcUTUAL  FEIEND. 

in  the  way  of  business,  and  partly  in  the  way  of  pleasure, 
he  had  imparted  to  Mr.  Wrayburn  some  of  the  interesting 
facts  of  Mr.  Boffin's  biography. 

"  Delighted/7  said  Eugene — though  he  didn't  look  so — 
"  to  know  Mr.  Boffin." 

"Thankee,  Sir,  thankee,"  returned  that  gentleman. 
"  And  how  do  you  like  the  law  ?" 

"A — not  particularly,"  returned  Eugene. 

"  Too  dry  for  you,  eh  ?  Well,  I  suppose  it  wants  some 
years  of  sticking  to,  before  you  master  it.  But  there's 
nothing  like  work.     Look  at  the  bees." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  returned  Eugene,  with  a  reluctant 
smile,  "  but  will  you  excuse  my  mentioning  that  I  always 
protest  against  being  referred  to  the  bees  ?" 

11  Do  you  !"  said  Mr.  Boffin. 

"  I  object  on  principle,"  said  Eugene,  "as  a  biped — " 

"  As  a  what  ?"  asked  Mr.  Boffin. 

"  As  a  two-footed  creature  ; — I  object  on  principle,  as 
a  two-footed  creature,  to  being  constantly  referred  to  in- 
sects and  four-footed  creatures.  I  object  to  being  required 
to  model  my  proceedings  according  to  the  proceedings  of 
the  bee,  or  the  dog,  or  the  spider,  or  the  camel.  I  fully 
admit  that  the  camel,  for  instance,  is  an  excessively  tem- 
perate person  ;  but  he  has  several  stomachs  to  entertain 
himself  with,  and  I  have  only  one.  Besides,  I  am  not 
fitted  up  with  a  convenient  cool  cellar  to  keep  my  drink 
in." 

"  But  I  said,  you  know,"  urged  Mr.  Boffin,  rather  at  a 
loss  for  an  answer,  "  the  bee." 

"Exactly.  And  may  I  represent  to  you  that  it's  in- 
judicious to  say  the  bee  ?  For  the  whole  case  is  assumed. 
Conceding  for  a  moment  that  there  is  any  analogy  between 


OTJR  MTJTTJAL  FRIEND.  143 

a  bee  and  a  man  ia  a  shirt  and  pantaloons  (which  I  deny), 
and  that  it  is  settled  that  the  man  is  to  learn  from  the  bee 
(which  I  also  deny),  the  question  still  remains,  What  is 
he  to  learn  ?  To  imitate  ?  Or  to  avoid  ?  When  your 
friends  the  bees  worry  themselves  to  that  highly  fluttered 
extent  about  their  sovereign,  and  become  perfectly  dis- 
tracted touching  the  slightest  monarchical  movement,  are 
we  men  to  learn  the  greatness  of  Tuft-hunting,  or  the  lit- 
tleness of  the  Court  Circular  ?  I  am  not  clear,  Mr. 
Boffin,  but  that  the  hive  may  be  satirical." 

°  At  all  events,  they  work,"  said  Mr.  Boffin. 

"  Ye-es,"  returned  Eugene,  disparagingly,  "  they  work  ; 
but  don't  you  think  they  overdo  it  ?  They  work  so  much 
more  than  they  need— they  make  so  much  more  than  they 
can  eat — they  are  so  incessantly  boring  and  buzzing  at 
their  one  idea  till  Death  comes  upon  them — that  don't 
you  think  they  overdo  it  ?  And  are  human  laborers  to 
have  no  holidays  because  of  the  bees  ?  And  am  I  never 
to  have  change  of  air  because  the  bees  don't  ?  Mr. 
Boffin,  I  think  honey  excellent  at  breakfast ;  but,  regarded 
in  the  light  of  my  conventional  schoolmaster  and  moralist, 
I  protest  against  the  tyrannical  humbug  of  your  friend 
the  bee.     With  the  highest  respect  for  you." 

"  Thankee,"  said  Mr.  Boffin.     "  Morning,  morning  1" 

But  the  worthy  Mr.  Boffin  jogged  away  with  a  comfort- 
less impression  he  could  have  dispensed  with,  that  there 
was  a  deal  of  unsatisfactoriness  in  the  world,  besides  what 
he  had  recalled  as  appertaining  to  the  Harmon  property. 
And  he  was  still  jogging  along  Fleet  Street,  in  this  con- 
dition of  mind,  when  he  became  aware  that  he  was  closely 
tracked,  and  observed  by  a  man  of  genteel  appearance. 

"  Now  then,"  said  Mr.  Boffin,  stopping  shqjrt  with  his 


144  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

meditations  brought  to  an  abrupt  check,  "  what's  the 
next  article  ?  " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Boffin." 

"  My  name  too,  eh  ?  How  did  you  come  by  it  ?  I 
don't  know  you." 

"  No,  Sir,  you  don't  know  me." 

Mr.  Boffin  looked  full  at  the  man,  and  the  man  looked 
full  at  him.  "  No,"  said  Mr.  Boffin,  after  a  glance  at  the 
pavement,  as  if  it  were  made  of  faces,  and  he  were  trying 
to  match  the  man's,  "  I  donH  know  you." 

"I  am  nobody,"  said  the  stranger,  " and  not  likely  to 
be  known  ;  but  Mr.  Boffin's  wealth — " 

"Oh!  that's  got  about  already,  has  it?"  muttered 
Mr.  Boffin. 

" — And  his  romantic  manner  of  acquiring  it  make  him 
conspicuous.  You  were  pointed  out  to  me  the  other 
day." 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Boffin,  "  I  should  say  I  was  a  dis- 
appointment to  you  when  I  was  pointed  out,  if  your 
politeness  would  allow  you  to  confess  it,  for  I  am  well 
aware  I  am  not  much  to  look  at.  What  might  you  want 
with  me  ?     Not  in  the  law,  are  you  ?" 

"  No,  Sir." 

"  No  information  to  give,  for  a  reward  ?  M 

"  No,  Sir." 

There  may  have  been  a.  momentary  mantling  in  the 
face  of  the  man  as  he  made  the  last  answer,  but  it  passed 
directly. 

"  If  I  don't  mistake,  you  have  followed  me  from  my 
lawyer's,  and  tried  to  fix  my  attention.  Say  out  !  Have 
you  ?  Or  haven't  you  ?  "  demanded  Mr.  Boffin,  rather 
angry. 


- cr    ( 


■U*lsf~^ 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  145 

"  Yes." 

"Why  have  you?" 

11  If  you -allow  nie  to  walk  beside  you,  Mr.  Boffin,  I  will 
tcii  you.  Would  you  object  to  tarn  aside  into  this  place 
— I  think  it  is  called  Clifford's  Inn — where  we  can  hear 
one  another  better  than  in  the  roaring  street  ?  n 

("  Now,"  thought  Mr.  Boffin,  "  if  he  proposes  a  game 
at  skittles,  or  meets  a  country  gentleman  just  come  into 
property,  or  produces  any  article  of  jewelry  he  has  found, 
I'll  knock  him  down  !  "  With  this  discreet  reflection, 
and  carrying  his  stick  in  his  arms  much  as  Punch  carries 
his,  Mr.  Boffin  turned  into  Clifford's  Inn  aforesaid.) 

"  Mr.  Boffin,  I  happened  to  be  in  Chancery  Lane  this 
morning,  when  I  saw  you  going  along  before  me.  I  took 
the  liberty  of  following  you,  trying  to  make  up  my  mind 
to  speak  to  you,  till  you  went  into  your  lawyer's.  Then  I 
waited  outside  till  you  came  out." 

("Don't  quite  sound  like  skittles,  nor  yet  country  gen- 
tleman, nor  yet  jewelry,"  thought  Mr.  Boffin,  "but  there's 
no  knowing.") 

"lam  afraid  my  object  is  a  bold  one,  I  am  afraid  it  has 
little  of  the  usual  practical  world  about  it,  but  I  venture 
it.  If  you  ask  me,  or  if  you  ask  yourself — which  is  more 
likely — what  emboldens  me,  I  answer,  I  have  been  strongly 
assured  that  you  are  a  man  of  rectitude  and  plain  deal- 
ing, with  the  soundest  of  sound  hearts,  and  that  you  are 
blessed  in  a  wife  distinguished  by  the  same  qualities." 

"  Your  information  is  true  of   Mrs.  Boffin,  anyhow, 
was  Mr.  Boffin's  answer,  as  he  surveyed  his  new  friend 
again.     There  was   something   repressed   in  the  strange 
man's  manner,  and  he  walked  with  his  eyes  on  the  ground 
— though  conscious,  for  all  that,  of  Mr.  Boffin's  observa- 


146  OUR  MUTUAL  FKIEND. 

tion — and  he  spoke  in  a  subdued  voice.  But  his  words 
came  easily,  and  his  voice  was  agreeable  in  tone,  albeit 
constrained. 

11  When  I  add,  I  can  discern  for  myself  what  the  gen- 
eral tongue  says  of  you — that  you  are  quite  unspoiled  by 
Fortune,  and  not  uplifted — I  trust  you  will  not,  as  a  man 
of  an  open  nature,  suspect  that  I  mean  to  flatter  you,  but 
will  believe  that  all  I  mean  is  to  excuse  myself,  these  be- 
ing my  only  excuses  for  my  present  intrusion." 

("  How  much  ?  "  thought  Mr.  Boffin.  "  It  must  be 
coming  to  money.     How  much  ?") 

"  You  will  probably  change  your  manner  of  living,  Mr. 
Boffin,  in  your  changed  circumstances.  You  will  pro- 
bably keep  a  larger  house,  have  many  matters  to  arrange, 
and  be  beset  by  numbers  of  correspondents.  If  you 
would  try  me  as  your  Secretary — " 

"  As  what  ?"  cried  Mr.  Boffin,  with  his  eyes  wide 
open. 

"  Your  Secretary." 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Boffin,  under  his  breath,  "  that's  a 
queer  thing  ! " 

"  Or,"  pursued  the  stranger,  wondering  at  Mr.  Boffin's 
wonder,  "  if  you  would  try  me  as  your  man  of  business 
under  any  name,  I  know  you  would  find  me  faithful  and 
grateful,  and  I  hope  you  would  find  me  useful.  You  may 
naturally  think  that  my  immediate  object  is  money.  Not 
so,  for  I  would  willingly  serve  you  a  year — two  years — 
any  term  that  you  might  appoint — before  that  should 
begin  to  be  a  consideration  between  us." 

"  Where  do  you  come  from  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Boffin. 

"  I  come,"  returned  the  other,  meeting  his  eye,  "  from 
many  countries." 


OUR  MUTUAL  FKIEND.  147 

Mr.  Boffin's  acquaintance  with  the  names  and  situations 
of  foreign  lands  being  limited  in  extent  and  somewhat 
confused,  in  quality,  he  shaped  his  next  question  on  an 
elastic  model. 

"  From — any  particular  place  ?" 

"  I  have  been  in  many  places." 

"  What  have  you  been  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Boffin. 

Here  again  he  made  no  great  advance,  for  the  reply 
was,  "  I  have  been  a  student  and  a  traveler." 

"  But  if  it  ain't  a  liberty  to  plump  it  out,"  said  Mr. 
Boffin,  "  what  do  you  do  for  your  living  ?  " 

"I  have  mentioned,"  returned  the  other,  with  another 
look  at  him,  and  a  smile,  "  what  I  aspire  to  do.  I  have 
been  superseded  as  to  some  slight  intentions  I  had,  and  I 
may  say  that  I  have  now  to  begin  life." 

Not  very  well  knowing  how  to  get  rid  of  this  applicant, 
and  feeling  the  more  embarrassed  because  his  manner  and 
appearance  claimed  a  delicacy  in  which  the  worthy  Mr. 
Boffin  feared  he  himself  might  be  deficient,  that  gentle- 
man glanced  into  the  mouldy  little  plantation  or  cat- 
preserve,  of  Clifford's  Inn,  as  it  was  that  day,  in  search 
of  a  suggestion.  Sparrows  were  there,  cats  were  there, 
dry-rot  and  wet-rot  were  there,  but  it  was  not  otherwise 
a  suggestive  spot. 

"  All  this  time,"  said  the  stranger,  producing  a  little 
pocket-book  and  taking  out  a  card,  "  I  have  not  mention- 
ed my  name.  My  name  is  Rokesiuith.  I  lodge  at  one 
Mr.  Wilfer's,  at  Holloway." 

Mr.  Boffin  stared  again. 

11  Father  of  Miss  Bella  Wilfer  ?  "  said  he. 

"  My  landlord  has  a  daughter  named  Bella.  Yes  ;  no 
doubt." 


148  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

Now  this  name  had  been  more  or  less  in  Mr.  Boffin's 
thoughts  all  the  morning,  and  for  days  before  ;  therefore 
he  said  : 

"  That's  singular  too  !  "  unconsciously  staring  again, 
past  all  bounds  of  good  manners,  with  the  card  in  his 
hand.  "  Though,  by-the-by,  I  suppose  it  was  one  of  that 
family  that  pinted  me  out  ?  " 

"  No.  I  have  never  been  in  the  streets  with  one  of 
them." 

"  Heard  me  talked  of  among  'em  though  ?  " 

"  No.  I  occupy  my  own  rooms,  and  have  held  scarcely 
any  communication  with  them." 

"  Odder  and  odder  ! "  said  Mr.  Boffin.  "  Well,  Sir,  to 
tell  you  the  truth,  I  don't  know  what  to  say  to  you." 

"  Say  nothing,"  returned  Mr.  Rokesmith  ;  "  allow  me 
to  call  on  you  in  a  few  clays.  I  am  not  so  unconscionable 
as  to  think  it  likely  that  you  would  accept  me  on  trust 
at  first  sight,  and  take  me  out  of  the  very  street.  Let 
me  come  to  you  for  your  further  opinion,  at  your  leisure." 

"  That's  fair,  and  I  don't  object,"  said  Mr.  Boffin  ; 
"but  it  must  be  on  condition  that  it's  fully  understood 
that  I  no  more  know  that  I  shall  ever  be  in  want  of  any 
gentleman  as  Secretary — it  was  Secretary  you  said  ; 
wasn't  it  ?" 

"  Yes." 

Again  Mr.  Boffin's  eyes  opened  wide,  and  he  stared  at 
the  applicant  from  head  to  foot,  repeating  "  Queer  ! — 
You're  sure  it  was  Secretary  ?     Are  you  ?  " 

"lam  sure  I  said  so." 

— "  As  Secretary,"  repeated  Mr.  Boffin,  meditating 
upon  the  word  ;  "  I  no  more  know  that  I  may  ever  want 
a  Secretary,  or  what  not,  than  I  do  that  I  shall  ever  be  in 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  149 

want  of  the  man  in  the  moon.  Me  and  Mrs.  Boffin  have 
not  even  settled  that  we  shall  make  any  change  in  our 
way  of  life.  Mrs.  Boffin's  inclinations  certainly  do  tend 
toward  Fashion  ;  but,  being  already  set  up  in  a  fashion- 
able way  at  the  Bower,  she  may  not  make  further  alter- 
ations. However,  Sir,  as  you  don't  press  yourself,  I  wish 
to  meet  you  so  far  as  saying,  by  all  means  call  at  the 
Bower  if  you  like.  Call  in  the  course  of  a  week  or  two. 
At  the  same  time,  I  consider  that  I  ought  to  name,  in 
addition  to  what  I  have  already  named,  that  I  have  in 
my  employment  a  literary  man — with  a  wooden  leg — as  I 
have  no  thoughts  of  parting  from." 

"  I  regret  to  hear  I  am  in  some  sort  anticipated,"  Mr. 
Rokesmith  answered,  evidently  having  heard  it  with  sur- 
prise ;  "  but  perhaps  other  duties  might  arise  ?" 

11  You  see,"  returned  Mr.  Boffin,  with  a  confidential 
sense  of  dignity,  "  as  to  my  literary  man's  duties,  they're 
clear.  Professionally  he  declines  and  he  falls,  and  as  a 
friend  he  drops  into  poetry." 

Without  observing  that  these  duties  seemed  by  no 
means  clear  to  Mr.  Rokesmith's  astonished  comprehen- 
sion, Mr.  Boffin  went  on  : 

"  And  now,  Sir,  I'll  wish  you  good-day.  You  can  call 
at  the  Bower  any  time  in  a  week  or  two.  It's  not  above 
a  mile  or  so  from  you,  and  your  landlord  can  direct  you 
to  it.  But  as  he  may  not  know  it  by  its  new  name  of 
Boffin's  Bower,  say,  when  you  inquire  of  him,  it's  Har- 
mon's ;  will  you  ?" 

"  Harmoon's,"  repeated  Mr.  Rokesmith,  seeming  to 
have  caught  the  sound  imperfectly,  "  Harmarn's.  How 
do  you  spell  it  ?" 

"  Why,  as  to  the  spelling  of  it,"  returned  Mr.  Boffin, 


150  OUR   MUTUAL  FKIEND. 

with  great  presence  of  mind,  "  that's  your  look  out. 
Harmon's  is  all  you've  got  to  say  to  him.  Morning, 
morning,  morning  !  "  And  so  departed,  without  looking 
oack. 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  151 


CHAPTER  TX. 

MR.    AND   MRS.    BOFFIN    IN    CONSULTATION. 

Betaking  himself  straight  homeward,  Mr.  Boffin,  with- 
out further  let  or  hindrance,  arrived  at  the  Bower,  and 
gave  Mrs.  Boffin  (in  a  walking-dress  of  black  velvet  and 
feathers,  like  a  mourning  coach-horse)  an  account  of  all 
he  had  said  and  done  since  breakfast. 

"  This  brings  us  round,  my  dear,"  he  then  pursued,  "  to 
the  question  we  left  unfinished  :  namely,  whether  there's 
to  be  any  new  go-in  for  Fashion." 

"  Now,  I'll  tell  you  what  I  want,  Noddy,"  said  Mrs. 
Boffin,  smoothing  her  dress  with  an  ah*  of  immense  en- 
joyment, "  I  want  Society." 

"  Fashionable  Society,  my  dear  ?" 

"  Yes  ! "  cried  Mrs.  Boffin,  laughing  with  the  glee  of  a 
child.  "  Yes  !  It's  no  good  my  being  kept  here  like 
Wax-Work  ;  is  it  now  ?" 

"  People  have  to  pay  to  see  Wax-Work,  my  dear," 
returned  her  husband,  "  whereas  (though  you'd  be  cheap 
at  the  same  money)  the  neighbors  is  welcome  to  see  you, 
for  nothing." 

"  But   it  don't  answer,"  said  the  cheerful  Mrs.  Boffin. 

"  When  we  worked  like  the  neighbors,  we  suited  one 
another.  Now  we  have  left  work  off,  we  have  left  off 
suiting  one  another." 


152  OUR   MUTUAL    FRIEND. 

"  What,  do  you  think  of  beginning  work  again  ?"  Mr. 
Boffin  hinted. 

"Out  of  the  question  !  "We  have  come  into  a  great 
fortune,  and  we  must  do  what's  right  by  our  fortune  ;  we 
must  act  up  to  it." 

Mr.  Boffin,  who  had  a  deep  respect  for  his  wife's  intui- 
tive wisdom,  replied,  though  rather  pensively  :  "  I  suppose 
we  must." 

"  It's  never  been  acted  up  to  yet,  and,  consequently,  no 
good  has  come  of  it,"  said  Mrs.  Boffin. 

"  True,  to  the  present  time,"  Mr.  Boffin  assented,  with 
his  former  pensiveness,  as  he  took  his  seat  upon  his  settle. 
"  I  hope  good  may  be  coming  of  it  in  the  future  time. 
Toward  which,  what's  your  views,  old  lady  ?" 

Mrs.  Boffin,  a  smiling  creature,  broad  of  figure,  and 
simple  of  nature,  with  her  hands  folded  in  her  lap,  and 
with  buxom  creases  in  her  throat,  proceeded  to  expound 
her  views. 

"  /say,  a  good  house  in  a  good  neighborhood,  good 
things  about  us,  good  living,  and  good  society.  /  say, 
live  like  our  means,  without  extravagance,  and  be 
happy." 

■  ■  Yes.  I  say  be  happy,  too,"  assented  the  still  pen 
Bive  Mr.  Boffin. 

"  Lor-a-mussy  !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Boffin,  laughing  and 
clapping  her  hands,  and  gayly  rocking  herself  to  and  fro, 
"  when  I  think  of  me  in  a  light  yellow  chariot  and  pair, 
with  silver  boxes  to  the  wheels — " 

"  Oh  !  you  was  thinking  of  that,  was  you,  my  dear  ?" 

"  Yes  !"  cried  the  delighted  creature.  "  And  with  a 
footman  up  behind,  with  a  bar  across,  to  keep  his  legs 
from  being  poled  1     And  with  a  coachman  up  in  front, 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  153 

sinking  down  into  a  seat  big  enough  for  three  of  him,  all 
covered  with  upholstery  in  green  and  white  ! .  And  with 
two  bay  horses  tossing  their  heads  and  stepping  higher 
than  they  trot  long-ways  !  And  with  you  and  me  leaning 
back  inside,  as  grand  as  ninepence  !  Oh-h-h-h  My  1  Ha 
ha  ha  ha  ha  !"# 

Mrs.  Boffin  clapped  her  hands  again,  rocked  herself 
again,  beat  her  feet  upon  the  floor,  and  wiped  the  tears 
of  laughter  from  her  eyes. 

"  And  what,  my  old  lady,"  inquired  Mr.  Boffin,  when 
he  also  had  sympathetically  laughed  :  "  what's  your  views 
on  the  subject  of  the  Bower  ?" 

"  Shut  it  up.  Don't  part  with  it,  but  put  somebody  in 
it,  to  keep  it." 

"  Any  other  views  ?" 

Cl  Noddy,"'  said  Mrs.  Boffin,  coming  from  her  fashion- 
able sofa  to  this  side  on  his  plain  settle,  and  hooking  her 
comfortable  arm  through  his,  "Next  I  think— and  I 
really  have  been  thinking  early  and  late — of  the  disap- 
pointed girl  ;  her  that  was  so  cruelly  disappointed,  you 
know,  both  of  her  husband  and  his  riches.  Don't  you 
think  we  might  do  something  for  her  ?  Have  her  to  live 
with  us  ?     Or  something  of  that  sort  ?" 

14  Ne-ver  once  thought  of  the  way  of  doing  it  1"  cried 
Mr.  Boffin,  smiting  the  table  in  his  admiration.  "What 
a  thinking  steam-ingein  this  old  lady  is.  And  she  don't 
know  how  she  does  it.     Neither  does  the  ingein  1" 

Mrs.  Boffin  pulled  his  nearest  ear,  in  acknowledgment 
of  this  piece  of  philosophy,  and  then  said,  gradually  ton- 
ing down  to  a  motherly  strain  :  "  Last,  and  not  least,  I 
have  taken  a  fancy.  You  remember  dear  little  John 
Harmon,  before  he  went  to  school  ?     Over  yonder  across 


154  OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND* 

the  yard,  at  our  fire  ?  Now  that  he  is  past  all  benefit  of 
the  money,  and  it's  come  to  us,  I  should  like  to  find  some 
orphan  child,  and  take  the  boy  and  adopt  him,  and  give 
him  John's  name,  aud  provide  for  him.  Sonffehow,  it 
would  make  me  easier,  I  fancy.     Say  it's  only  a  whim — " 

"But  I  don't  say  so,"  interposed  her  husband. 

"  No,  but  deary,  if  you  did — " 

11 1  should  be  a  Beast  if  I  did,"  her  husband  interposed 
again.  ' 

"  That's  as  much  as  to  say  you  agree  ?  Qood  and 
kind  of  you,  and  like  yon,  deary  !  And  don't  you  begin 
to  find  it  pleasant  now,"  said  Mrs.  Boffin,  once  more  ra- 
client  in  her  comely  way  from  head  to  foot,  and  once  more 
smoothing  her  dress  with  immense  enjoyment,  "  don't  you 
begin  to  find  it  pleasant  already,  to  think  that  a  child 
will  be  made  brighter,  and  better,  and  happier,  because 
of  that  poor  sad  child  that  day  ?  And  isn't  it  pleasant 
to  know  that  the  good  will  be  done  with  the  poor  said 
child's  own  money  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  and  it's  pleasant  to  know  that  you  are  Mrs. 
Boffin,"  said  her  husband,  "  and  it's  been  a  pleasant  thing 
to  know  this  many  and  many  a  year  ! "  It  was  ruin  to 
Mrs.  Boffin's  aspirations,  but,  having  so  spoken,  they  sat 
Me  by  side,  a  hopelessly,  Unfashonable  pair. 

These  two  ignorant  and  unpolished  people  had  guided 
themselves  so  far  on  in  their  journey  of  life  by  a  religious 
sense  of  duty  and  desire  to  do  right.  Ten  thousand  weak- 
nesses and  absurdities  might  have  been  detected  in  the 
breasts  of  both  ;  ten  thousand  vanities  additional,  possi- 
bly, in  the  breast  of  the  woman.  But  the  hard  wrathful 
and  sordid  nature  that  had  wrung  as  much  work  out  of 
them  as  could  be  got  in  their  best  days,  for  as  little  money 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  155 

as  could  be  paid  to  hurry  on  their  worst,  had  never  been 
so  warped,  but  that  it  knew  their  moral  straightness  and 
respected  it.  In  its  own  despite,  in  a  constant  conflict 
with  itself  and  them,  it  had  done  so.  And  this  is  th& 
eternal  law.  For,  Evil  often  stops  short  at  itself,  and 
dies  with  the  doer  of  it  ;  but  Good,  never. 

Through  his  most  inveterate  purposes,  the  dead  Jailer 
of  Harmony  Jail  had  'known  these  two  faithful  servants 
to  be  honest  and  true.  While  he  raged  at  them  and  re- 
viled them  for  opposing  him  with  the  speech  of  the  honest 
and  true,  it  had  scratched  his  stony  heart,  and  he  had 
perceived  the  powerlessness  of  all  his  wealth  to  buy  them 
if  he  had  addressed  himself  to  the  attempt.  So,  even 
while  he  was  their  griping  taskmaster  and  never  gave 
them  a  good  word,  he  had  written  their  names  down  in 
his  will.  So,  even  while  it  was  his  daily  declaration  that 
he  mistrusted  all  mankind — and  sorely  indeed  he  did  mis- 
trust all  who  bore  any  resemblance  to  himself — he  was 
as  certain  that  these  two  people,  surviving  him,  would  be 
trust-worthy  in  all  things  from  the  greatest  to  the  least, 
as  he  was  that  he  must  surely  die. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Boffin,  sitting  side  by  side,  with  Fashion 
withdrawn  to  an  immeasurable  distance,  fell  to  discussing 
how  they  could  best  find  their  orphan.  Mrs.  Boffin  sug 
gested  advertisement"  in  the  newspapers,  requesting  or- 
phans answering  annexed  description  to  apply  at  the 
Bower  on  a  certain  day  ;  but  Mr.  Boffin  wisely  appre- 
hending obstruction  of  the  neighboring  thoroughfares  by 
orphan  swarms,  this  course  was  negatived.  Mrs.  Boffin 
next  suggested  application  to  their  clergyman  for  a  likely 
orphan.  Mr.  Boffin  thinking  better  of  this  scheme,  they 
resolved  to  call  upon  the  reverend  gentleman  at  once,  and 

8 


156  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

to  take  the  same  opportunity  of  making  acquaintance 
with  Miss  Bella  Wilfer.  In  order  that  these  visits  might 
be  visits  of  state,  Mrs.  Boffin's  equipage  was  ordered  out. 

This  consisted  of  a  long  hammer-headed  old  horse,  for- 
merly used  in  the  business,  attached  to  a  four-wheeled 
chaise  of  the  same  period,  which  had  long  been  exclusive- 
ly used  by  the  Harmony  Jail  poultry  as  the  favorite  lay- 
ing-place of  several  discreet  hens.  An  unwonted  appli- 
cation of  corn  to  the  horse,  and  of  paint  and  varnish  to 
the  carriage,  when  both  fell  in  as  a  part  of  the  Boffin 
legacy,  had  made  what  Mr.  Boffin  considered  a  neat  turn- 
out of  the  whole  ;  and  a  driver  being  added,  in  the  per- 
son of  a  long  hammer-headed  young  man  who  was  a  very 
good  match  for  the  horse,  left  nothing  to  be  desired.  He, 
too,  had  been  formerly  used  in  the  business,  but  was  now 
entombed  by  an  honest  jobbing  tailor  of  the  district  in  a 
perfect  Sepulchre  of  coat  and  gaiters,  sealed  with  pon- 
derous buttons. 

Behind  this  domestic  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Boffin  took  their 
seats  in  the  back  compartment  of  the  vehicle  :  which  was 
sufficiently  commodious,  but  had  an  undignified  and 
alarming  tendency,  in  getting  over  a  rough  crossing,  to 
hiccup  itself  away  from  the  front  compartment.  On  their 
being  descried  emerging  from  the  gates  of  the  Bower,  the 
neighborhood  turned  out  at  door  and  window  to  salute 
the  Boffins.  Among  those  who  were  ever  and  again  left 
behind,  staring  after  the  equipage,  were  many  youthful 
spirits,  who  hailed  it  in  stentorian  tones  with  such  con- 
gratulations as  "  Nod-dy  Bof-fin  I"  "  Bof-fin's  money  I" 
"  Down  with  the  dust,  Bof-fin  I"  and  other  similar  com- 
pliments. These,  the  hammer-headed  young  man  took  in 
such  ill  part  that  he  often  impaired  the  majesty  of  the 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRTEND.  157 

progress  by  pulling  up  short,  and  making  as  though  he 
would  alight  to  exterminate  the  offenders  ;  a  purpose 
from  which  he  only  allowed  himself  to  be  dissuaded  alter 
long  and  lively  arguments  with  his  employers. 

At  length  the  Bower  district  was  left  behind,  and  the 
peaceful  dwelling  of  the  Reverend  Frank  Milvey  was 
gained.  The  Reverend  Frank  Milvey's  abode  was  a  very 
modest  abode,  because  his  income  was  a  very  modest  in- 
come. He  was  officially  accessible  to  every  blundering 
old  woman  who  had  incoherence  to  bestow  upon  him,  and 
readily  received  the  Boffins.  He  was  quite  a  young  man, 
expensively  educated,  and  wretchedly  paid,  with  quite  a 
young  wife  and  half  a  dozen  quite  young  children.  He  was 
under  the  necessity  of  teaching  and  translating  from  the 
classics  to  eke  out  his  scanty  means,  yet  was  generally 
expected  to  have  more  time  to  spare  than  the  idlest  per- 
son in  the  parish,  and  more  money  than  the  richest.  He 
accepted  the  needless  inequalities  and  inconsistencies  of 
his  life,  with  a  kind  of  conventional  submission  that  was 
almost  slavish  ;  and  any  daring  layman  who  would  have 
adjusted  such  burdens  as  his,  more  decently  and  gracious- 
ly, would  have  had  small  help  from  him. 

With  a  ready  patient  face  and  manner,  and  yet  with  a 
latent  smile  that  showed  a  quick  enough  observation  of 
Mrs.  Boffin's  dress,  Mr.  Milvey,  in  his  little  back  room — 
charged  with  sounds  and  cries  as  though  the  six  children 
above  were  coming  down  through  the  ceiling,  and  the 
roasting  leg  of  mutton  below  were  coming  up  through  the 
floor — listened  to  Mrs.  Boffin's  statement  of  her  want  of 
an  orphan. 

"  I  think,"  said  Mr.  Milvey,  "  that  you  have  never  had 
a  child  of  your  own,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Boffin  ?" 


158  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

Never. 

"  But,  like  the  Kings  and  Queens  in  the  Fairy  Tales, 
I  suppose  you  have  wished  for  one  V 

In  a  general  way,  yes. 

Mr.  Milvey  smiled  again,  as  he  remarked  to  himself, 
"  Those  kings  and  queens  were  always  wishing  for  child-* 
ren."     It  occurring  to  him,  perhaps,  that  if  they  had 
been  Curates,  their  wishes  might  have  tended  in  the  op- 
posite direction. 

"  I  think,"  he  pursued,  "  we  had  better  take  Mrs*  Mil- 
vey into  our  Council.  She  is  indispensable  to  me..  If 
you  please,  I'll  call  her."   , 

So  Mr.  Milvey  called,  "  Margaretta,  my  dear  1"  and 
Mrs.  Milvey  came  down.  A  pretty,  bright  little  woman, 
something  worn  by  anxiety,  who  had  repressed  many 
pretty  tastes  and  bright  fancies,  and  substituted  in  their 
stead  schools,  soup,  flannel,  coals,  and  all  the  week-day 
cares  and  Sunday  coughs  of  a  large  population,  young 
and  old.  As  gallantly  had  Mr.  Milvey  repressed  much  in 
himself  that  naturally  belonged  to  his  old  studies  and  old 
fellow-students,  and  taken  up  among  the  poor  and  their 
children  with  the  hard  crumbs  of  life. 

"  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Boffin,  my  dear,  whose  good  fortune 
you  have  heard  of." 

Mrs.  Milvey,  with  the  most  unaffected  grace  in  the 
world,  congratulated  them,  and  was  glad  to  see  them. 
Yet  her  engaging  face,  being  an  open  os  well  as  a  per- 
ceptive one,  was  not  without  her  husband's  latent  smile. 

"  Mrs.  Boffin  wishes  to  adopt  a  little  boy,  my  dear." 

Mrs.  Milvey,  looking  rather  alarmed,  her  husband 
added  : 

"  An  orphan,  my  dear  " 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  159 

-  "  Oh  I"  said  Mrs.  Milvey,  reassured  for  her  own  little 
boys. 

"And  I  was  thinking,  Margaretta,  that  perhaps  old 
Mrs.  Goody's  grandchild  might  answer  the  purpose." 

"Oh,  my  dear  Frank  !      I  don't   think   that  would 

do  !" 
"  No  ?» 

"Oh,  nor 

The  smiling  Mrs.  Boffin,  feeling  it  incumbent  on  her  to 
take  part  in  the  conversation,  and  being  charmed  with 
the  emphatic  little  wife  and  her  ready  interest,  here  offer- 
ed her  acknowledgments  and  inquired  what  there  was 
against  him  ? 

"  I  don't  think,"  said  Mrs.  Milvey,  glancing  at  the 
Reverend  Frank — "  and  I  believe  my  husband  will  agree 
with  me  when  he  considers  it  again — that  you  could  pos- 
sibly keep  that 'orphan  clean  from  snuff.  Because  his 
grandmother  takes  so  many  ounces,  and  drops  it  over 
him." 

"  But  he  would  not  be  living  with  his  grandmother 
then,  Margaretta,"  said  Mr.  Milvey. 

"  No,  Frank,  but  it  would  be  impossible  to  keep  her 
from  Mrs.  Boffin's  house  ;  and  the  more  there  was  to  eat 
and  drink  there,  the  oftener  she  would  go.  And  she  is 
an  inconvenient  woman.  I -hope  it's  not  uncharitable  to 
remember  that  last  Christmas  Eve  she  drank  eleven  cups 
of  tea,  and  grumbled  all  the  time.  And  she  is  ?wt  a 
grateful  woman,  Frank.  You  recollect  her  addressing  a 
crowd  outside  this  house,  about  her  wrongs,  when,  one 
night  after  we  had  gone  to  bed,  she  brought  back  the 
petticoat  of  new  flannel  that  had  been  given  her,  because 
it  was  too  short.'' 


160  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

"  That's  true,"  said  Mr.  Milvey.  "  I  don't  think  that 
would  do.     Would  little  Harrison " 

"  Oh,  Frank!"  remonstrated  his  emphatic  wife. 

11  He  has  no  grandmother,  my  dear." 

"No,  but  I  donH  think  Mrs.  Boffin  would  like  an  or- 
phan who  squints  so  much." 

"  That's  true  again,"  said  Mr.  Milvey,  becoming  hag- 
gard with  perplexity.     "  If  a  little  girl  would  do " 

"  But,  my  dear  Frank,  Mrs.  Boffin  wants  a  boy." 

"  That's  true  again,"  said  Mr.  Milvey.  "  Tom  Bocker 
is  a  nice  boy"  (thoughtfully). 

"  But  I  doubt,  Frank,"  Mrs.  Milvey  hinted,  after  a  lit- 
tle hesitation,  "if  Mrs.  Boffin  wants  an  orphan  quite 
nineteen,  who  drives  a  cart  and  waters  the  roads." 

Mr.  Milvey  referred  the  point  to  Mrs.  Boffin  in  a  look  ; 
on  that  smiling  lady's  shaking  her  black  velvet  bonnet 
and  bows,  he  remarked,  in  lower  spirits,  "  That's  true 
again." 

"  I  am  sure,"  said  Mrs.  Boffin,  concerned  at  giving  so 
much  trouble,  "  that  if  I  had  known  you  would  have 
taken  so  much  pains,  Sir — and  you  too,  ma'am — I  don't 
think  I  would  have  come." 

11  Pray  don't  say  that  !"  urged  Mrs.  Milvey. 

"  No,  don't  say  that,"  assented  Mr.  Milvey,  "  because 
we  are  so  much  obliged  to  you  for  giving  us  the  prefer- 
ence." Which  Mrs.  Milvey  confirmed  ;  and  really  the 
kind,  conscientious  couple  spoke  as  if  they  kept  some  pro 
Stable  orphan  warehouse  and  were  personally  patronized. 
"  But  it  is  a  responsible  trust,"  added  Mr.  Milvey,  "  and 
difficult  to  discharge.  At  the  same  time,  we  are  naturally 
very  unwilling  to  lose  the  chance  you  so  kindly  give  us, 
and  if  you  could  afford  us  a  day  or  two  to  look  about  us 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  161 

— you  know,  Margaretta,  we  might  carefully  examine  the 
work-house,  and  the  Infant  School,  and  your  District." 

"  To  be  sure  /"  said  the  emphatic  little  wife. 

"  We  have  orphans,  I  know,"  pursued  Mr.  Milvey, 
quite  with  the  air  as  if  he  might  have  added,  "in  stock," 
and  quite  as  anxiously  as  if  there  were  great  competition 
in  the  business  and  he  were  afraid  of  losing  an  order,  "over 
at  the  clay-pits  ;  but  they  are  employed  by  relations  or 
friends,  and  I  am  afraid  it  would  come  at  last  to  a  trans- 
action in  the  way  of  barter.  And  even  if  you  exchanged 
blankets  for  the  child — or  books  and  firing — it  would  be 
impossible  to  prevent  their  being  turned  into  liquor." 

Accordingly,  it  was  resolved  that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Milvey 
should  search  for  an  orphan  likely  to  suit,  and  as  free  as 
possible  from  the  foregoing  objections,  and  should  com- 
municate again  with  Mrs.  Boffin.  Then  Mr.  Boffin  took 
the  liberty  of  mentioning  to  Mr.  Milvey  that  if  Mr.  Milvey 
would  do  him  the  kindness  to  be  perpetually  his  banker 
to  the  extent  of  "  a  twenty-pound  note  or  so,"  to  be  ex- 
pended without  any  reference  to  him,  he  would  be  hearti- 
ly obliged.  At  this,  both  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Milvey  were  quite 
as  much  pleased  as  if  they  had  no  wants  of  their  own,  but 
only  knew  what  poverty  was  in  the  persons  of  other  peo- 
ple ;  and  so  the  interview  terminated  with  satisfaction 
and  good  opinion  on  all  sides. 

"  Now,  old  lady,"  said  Mr.  Boffin,  as  they  resumed 
their  seats  behind  the  hammer-headed  horse  and  man  : — 
11  having  made  a  very  agreeable  visit  there,  we'll  try 
Wilfer's." 

It  appeared,  on  their  drawing  up  at  the  family  gate, 
that  to  try  Wilfer's  was  a  thing  more  easily  projected 
than  done,  on  account  of  the  extreme  difficulty  of  getting 


162  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

into  that  establishment  ;  three  pulls  at  the  bell  produc- 
ing no  external  result,  though  each  was  attended  by 
audible  sounds  of  scampering  and  rushing  within.  At  the 
fourth  tug — vindictively  administered  by  the  hammer- 
headed  young  man — Miss  Lavina  appeared,  emerging 
from  the  house  in  an  accidental  manner,  with  a  bonnet 
and  parasol,  as  designing  to  take  a  contemplative  walk. 
The  young  lady  was  astonished  to  find  visitors  at  the 
gate,  and  expressed  her  feelings  in  appropriate  action. 

"  Here's  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Boffin  !"  growled  the  hammer- 
headed  young  man  through  the  bars  of  the  gate,  and  at 
the  same  time  shaking  it,  as  if  he  were  on  view  in  a  Mena- 
gerie ;  "  they've  been  here  half  an  hour." 

"  Who  did  you  say  ?"  asked  Miss  Lavina. 

"Mr.  and  Mrs.  Boffin!"  returned  the  young  man, 
rising  into  a  roar. 

Miss  Lavina  tripped  up  the  steps  to  the  house-door, 
tripped  down  the  steps  with  the  key,  tripped  across  the 
little  garden,  and  opened  the  gate.  "  Please  to  walk 
in,"  said  Miss  Lavina,  haughtily.     "  Our  servant  is  out." 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Boffin  complying,  and  pausing  in  the  little 
hall  until  Miss  Lavinia  came  up  to  show  them  where  to 
go  next,  perceived  three  pairs  of  listening  legs  upon  the 
stairs  above.  Mrs.  Wilfer's  legs,  Miss  Bella's  legs,  Mr. 
George  Sampson's  legs. 

"  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Boffin,  I  think  ?"  said  Lavinia,  in  a  warn- 
ing voice. 

Strained  attention  on  the  part  of  Mrs.  Wilfer's  legs,  of 
Miss  Bella's  legs,  of  Mr.  George  Sampson's  legs. 

"Yes,  Miss." 

"  If  you'll  step  this  way — down  these  stairs — I'll  let 
Ma  know." 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  163 

Excited  flight  of  Mrs.  Wilfer's  legs,  of  Miss  Bella's  legs, 
of  Mr.  George  Sampson's  legs. 

After  waiting  some  quarter  of  an  hour  alone  in  the 
family  sitting-room,  which  presented  traces  of  having  been 
so  hastily  arranged  after  a  meal  that  one  might  have 
doubted  whether  it  was  made  tidy  for  visitors,  or  cleared 
for  blindman's  buff,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Boffin  became  aware  of 
the  entrance  of  Mrs.  Wilfer,  majestically  faint,  and  with 
a  condescending  stitch  in  her  side  ;  which  was  her  com- 
pany manner. 

"  Pardon  me,"  said  Mrs.  Wilfer,  after  the  first  saluta- 
tions, and  as  soon  as  she  had  adjusted  the  handkerchief 
under  her  chin,  and  waved  her  gloved  hands,  "  to  what 
am  I  indebted  for  this  honor  ?" 

"To  make  short  of  it,  ma'am,"  returned  Mr.  Boffin, 
"  perhaps  you  may  be  acquainted  with  the  names  of  me 
and  Mrs.  Boffin,  as  having  come  into  a  certain  property." 

"I  have  heard,  Sir,"  returned  Mrs.  Wilfer,  with  a  dig- 
nified bend  of  her  head,  "  of  such  being  the  case."* 

"  And  I  dare  say,  ma'am,"  pursued  Mr.  Boffin,  while 
Mrs.  Boffin  added  confirmatory  nods  and  smiles,  "  you 
are  not  very  much  inclined  to  take  kindly  to  us  ?" 

"  Pardon  me,"  said  Mrs.  Wilfer.  "  'Twere  unjust  to 
visit  upon  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Boffin  a  calamity  which  was 
doubtless  a  dispensation."  These  words  were  rendered 
the  more  effective  by  a  serenely  heroic  expression  of  suf- 
fering. 

"  That's  fairly  meant,  I  am  sure,"  remarked  the  honest 
Mr.  Boffin  ;  "  Mrs.  Boffin  and  me,  ma'am,  are  plain  peo- 
ple, and  we  don't  want  to  pretend  to  any  thing,  nor  yet 
to  go  round  and  round  at  any  thing  :  because  there's  al- 
ways a  straight  way  to  every  thing.     Consequently,  we 


164:  OUR   MUTUAL    FRIEND. 

make  this  call  to  say,  that  we  shall  be  glad  to  have  the 
honor  and  pleasure  of  your  daughter's  acquaintance,  and 
that  we  shall  be  rejiced  if  your  daughter  will  come  to  con- 
sider our  house  in  the  light  of  her  home  equally  with  this. 
In  short,  we  want  to  cheer  your  daughter,  and  to  give 
her  the  opportunity  of  sharing  such  pleasures  as  we  are  a 
going  to  take  ourselves.  We  want  to  brisk  her  up,  and 
brisk  her  about,  and  give  her  a  change." 

"  That's  it  !"  said  the  open-hearted  Mrs.  Boffin.  ''Lor  ! 
Let's  be  comfortable." 

Mrs.  Wilfer  bent  her  head  in  a  distant  manner  to  her 
lady  visitor,  and  with  majestic  monotony  replied  to  the 
gentleman  : 

"  Pardon  me.  I  have  several  daughters.  Which  of 
my  daughters  am  I  to  understand  is  thus  favored  by  the 
kind  intentions  of  Mr.  Boffin  and  his  lady  ?" 

"  Don't  you  see  ?"  the  ever-smiling  Mrs.  Boffin  put  in. 
' '  Naturally,  Miss  Bella,  you  know." 

"  Oh-h  !"  said  Mrs.  Wilfer,  with  a  severely  unconvinced 
look.  "  My  daughter  Bella  is  accessible  and  shall  speak 
for  herself."  Then  opening  the  door  a  little  way,  simul- 
taneously with  a  sound  of  scuttling  outside  it,  the  good 
lady  made  the  proclamation,  "  Send  Miss  Bella  to  me  I" 
Which  proclamation,  though  grandly  formal,  and  one 
might  almost  say  heraldic,  to  hear,  was  in  fact  enun- 
ciated with  her  maternal  eyes  reproachfully  glaring  on 
that  young  lady  in  the  flesh — and  in  so  much  of  it  that 
she  was  retiring  with  difficulty  into  the  small  closet  under 
the  stairs,  apprehensive  of  the  emergence  of  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Boffin. 

"  The  avocations  of  R.  W.,  my  husband,"  Mrs.  Wilfer 
explained,  on  resuming  her  seat,  "  keep  him  fully  engaged 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND.  165 

in  the  City  at  this  time  of  the  day,  or  he  would  have  had 
the  honor  of  participating  in  your  reception  beneath  our 
humble  roof." 

"Very  pleasant  premises  1'  said  Mr.  Boffin,  cheer- 
fully. 

"  Pardon  me,  Sir,"  returned  Mrs.  Wilfer,  correcting 
him,  "  it  is  the  abode  of  conscious  though  independent 
Poverty." 

Finding  it  rather  difficult  to  pursue  the  conversation 
down  this  road,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Boffin  sat  staring  at  mid- 
air, and  Mrs.  Wilfer  sat  silently,  giving  them  to  under- 
stand that  every  breath  she  drew  required  to  be  drawn 
with  a  self-denial  rarely  paralleled  in  history,  until  Miss 
Bella  appeared  :  whom  Mrs.  Wilfer  presented,  and  to 
whom  she  explained  the  purpose  of  the  visitors. 

11 1  am  much  obliged  to  you,  I  am  sure,"  said  Miss 
Bella,  coldly  shaking  her  curls,  "but  I  doubt  if  I  have 
the  inclination  to  go  at  all." 

"  Bella  I"  Mrs.  Wilfer  admonished  her  ;  "  Bella,  you 
must  conquer  this." 

"  Yes,  do  what  your  Ma  says,  and  conquer  it,  my  dear," 
urged  Mrs.  Boffin,  "  because  we  shall  be  so  glad  to  have 
you,  and  because  you  are  much  too  pretty  to  keep  your- 
self shut  up."  With  that  the  pleasant  creature  gave  her 
a  kiss,  and  patted  her  on  her  dimpled  shoulders  ;  Mrs. 
Wilfer  sitting  stiffly  by,  like  a  functionary  presiding  over 
an  interview  previous  to  an  execution. 

"  We  are  going  to  move  into  a  nice  house,"  said  Mrs. 
Boffin,  who  was  woman  enough  to  compromise  Mr.  Boffin 
on  that  point,  when  he  couldn't  very  well  contest  it  ; 
"  and  we  are  going  to  set  up  a  nice  carriage,  and  we'll  go 
every  where  and  see  every  thing.     And  you  mustn't," 


166  OUR  MUTUAL  FEIEND. 

seating  Bella  beside  her,  and  patting  her  hand,  "you 
mustn't  feel'  a  dislike  to  us  to  begin  with,  because  wo 
couldn't  help  it,  you  know,  my  dear." 

With  the  natural  tendency  of  youth  to  yield  to  candor 
and  sweet  temper,  Miss  Bella  was  so  touched  by  the  sim- 
plicity of  this  address  that  she  frankly  returned  Mrs. 
Boffin's  kiss.  Not  at  all  to  the  satisfaction  of  that  good 
woman  of  the  world,  her  mother,  who  sought  to  hold  the 
advantageous  ground  of  obliging  the  Boffins  instead  of 
being  obliged. 

"  My  youngest  daughter,  Lavinia,"  said  Mrs.  Wilfer, 
glad  to  make  a  diversion,  as  that  young  lady  reappeared. 
"  Mr.  George  Sampson,  a  friend  of  the  family." 

The  friend  of  the  family  was  in  that  stage  of  the  tender 
passion  which  bound  him  to  regard  every  body  else  as  the 
foe  of  the  family.  He  put  the  round  head  of  his  cane  in 
his  mouth,  like  a  stopper,  when  he  sat  down.  As  if  he 
felt  himself  full  to  the  throat  with  affronting  sentiments. 
And  he  eyed  the  Boffins  with  implacable  eyes. 

"  If  you  like  to  bring  your  sister  with  you  when  you 
come  to  stay  with  us,"  said  Mrs.  Boffin,  "  of  course  we 
shall  be  glad.  The  better  you  please  yourself,  Miss  Bella, 
the  better  you'll  please  us." 

"  Oh,  my  consent  is  of  no  consequence  at  all,  I  sup- 
pose ?"  cried  Miss  Lavinia. 

"  Lavvy,"  said  her  sister,  in  a  low  voice,  "have  the 
goodness  to  be  seen  and  not  heard." 

"  No,  I  won't,"  replied  the  sharp  Lavinia.  "  I'm  not 
a  child,  to  be  taken  notice  of  by  strangers." 

11  You  are  a  child." 

"I  am  not  a  child,  and  I  won't  be  taken  notice  of. — 
1  Bring  your  sister,'  indeed  !" 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND.  167 

"  Lavinia  !"  said  Mrs.  Wilfer  "  Hold  !  I  will  not 
allow  you  to  utter  in  my  presence  the  absurd  suspicion 
that  any  strangers — I  care  not  what  their  names — can 
patronize  my  child.  Do  you  dare  to  suppose,  you  ridicu- 
lous girl,  that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Boffin  would  enter  these  doors 
upon  a  patronizing  errand  ;  or,  if  they  did,  would  remain 
within  them,  only  for  one  single  instant,  while  your  mo- 
ther had  the  strength  yet  remaining  in  her  vital  frame  to 
request  them  to  depart  ?  You  little  know  your  mother  if 
you  presume  to  think  so." 

"  It's  all  very  fine,"  Lavinia  began  to  grumble,  when 
Mrs.  Wilfer  repeated  : 

11  Hold  !  I  will  not  allow  this.  Do  you  not  know 
what  is  due  to  guests  ?  Do  you  not  comprehend  that  in 
presuming  to  hint  that  this  lady  and  gentleman  could 
have  any  idea  of  patronizing  any  member  of  your  family 
— I  care  not  which; — you  accuse  them  of  an  impertinence 
little  less  than  insane  ?" 

11  Never  mind  me  and  Mrs.  Boffin,  ma'am,"  said  Mr. 
Boffin,  smilingly  :  "  we  don't  care." 

"  Pardon  me,  but  J  do,"  returned  Mrs.  Wilfer. 

Miss  Lavinia  laughed  a  short  laugh  as  she  muttered, 
"  Yes,  to  be  sure." 

"  And  I  require  my  audacious  child,"  proceeded  Mrs. 
Wilfer,  with  a  withering  look  at  her  youngest,  on  whom 
it  had  not  the  slightest  effect,  "  to  please  to  be  just  to  her 
sister  Bella  ;  to  remember  that  her  sister  Bella  is  much 
sought  after  ;  and  that  when  her  sister  Bella  accepts  an 
attention,  she  considers  herself  to  be  conferring  qui-i-ite 
as  much  honor" — this  with  an  indignant  shiver — "  as  she 
receives." 

But  here  Miss  Bella  repudiated,  and  said  quietly,  "  I 


168  OTJK   MUTUAL   FJBUEND. 

can  speak  for  myself,  you  know,  ma.  You  needn't  bring 
me  in,  please." 

"  And  it's  all  very  well  aiming  at  others  through  con- 
venient me,"  said  the  irrepressible  Lavinia,  spitefully  ; 
"  but  I  should  like  to  ask  George  Sampson  what  he  says 
to  it." 

"  Mr.  Sampson,"  proclaimed  Mrs.  Wilfer,  seeing  that 
young  gentleman  take  his  stopper  out,  and  so  darkly  fix- 
ing him  with  her  eyes  as  that  he  put  it  in  again  :  "Mr. 
Sampson,  as  a  friend  of  this  family  and  a  frequenter  of 
this  house,  is,  I  am  persuaded,  far  too  well-bred  to  inter- 
pose on  such  an  invitation." 

This  exaltation  of  the  young  gentleman  moved  the  con- 
scientious Mrs.  Boffin  to  repentance  for  having  done  him 
an  injustice  in  her  mind,  and  consequently  to  saying  that 
she  and  Mr.  Boffin  would  at  any  time  be  glad  to  see  him  ; 
an  attention  which  he  handsomely  acknowledged  by  re- 
plying, with  his  stopper  unremoved,  "  Much  obliged  to 
you,  but  I  am  always  engaged,  day  and  night." 

However,  Bella  compensating  for  all  drawbacks  by  re- 
sponding to  the  advances  of  the  Boffins  in  an  engaging 
way,  that  easy  pair  were  on  the  whole  well  satisfied,  and 
proposed  to  the  said  Bella  that  as  soon  as  they  should  be 
in  a  condition  to  receive  her  in  a  manner  suitable  to  their 
desires,  Mrs.  Boffin  should  return  with  notice  of  the  fact. 
This  arrangement  Mrs.  Wilfer  sanctioned  with  a  stately 
inclination  of  her  head  and  wave  of  her  gloves,  as  who 
should  say,  "  Your  demerits  shall  be  overlooked,  and  you 
shall  be  mercifully  gratified,  poor  people." 

"  By-the-by,  ma'am,"  said  Mr.  Bofiin,  turning  back  as 
he  was  going,  "  you  have  a  lodger?" 

"  A  gentleman,"    Mrs.    Wilier    answered,    qualifying 


JI{;{ 

■    1  % 


1 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  169 

the  low  expression,  "undoubtedly  occupies  our  first 
floor." 

"  I  may  call  him  Our  Mutual  Friend,"  said  Mr.  Boffin. 
"  What  sort  of  a  fellow  is  Our  Mutual  Friend,  now  ? — 
Do  you  like  him  ?" 

"  Mr.  Rokesmith  is  very  punctual,  very  quiet,  a  very 
eligible  inmate." 

"  Because,"  Mr.  Boffin  explained,  "  you  must  know  that 
I'm  not  particularly  well  acquainted  with  Our  Mutual 
Friend,  for  I  have  only  seen  him  once.  You  give  a  good 
account  of  him.     Is  he  at  home  ?" 

"  Mr.  Rokesmith  is  at  home,"  said  Mrs.  Wilfer  ;  "  in- 
deed," pointing  through  the  window,  "  there  he  stands  at 
the  garden  gate.     Waiting  for  you,  perhaps  ?" 

"  Perhaps  so,"  replied  Mr.  Boffin.  "  Saw  me  come  in, 
maybe." 

Bella  had  closely  attended  to  this  short  dialogue.  Ac- 
companying Mrs.  Boffin  to  the  gate,  she  as  closely  watch- 
ed what  followed. 

"  How  are  you,  Sir,  how  are  you  ?"  said  Mr.  Boffin. — 
"This  is  Mrs.  Boffin.  Mr.  Rokesmith,  that  I  told  you 
of,  my  dear." 

She  gave  him  good-day,  and  he  bestirred  himself  and 
helped  her  to  the  seat,  and  the  like,  with  a  ready  hand. 

"Good-by  for  the  present,  Miss  Bella,"  said  Mrs.  Boffin, 
calling  out  a  hearty  parting.  "We  shall  meet  again 
soon  !  And  then  I  hope  I  shall  have  my  little  John 
Harmon  to  show  you." 

Mr.  Rokesmith,  who  was  at  the  wheel  adjusting  the 
skirts  of  her  dress,  suddenly  looked  behind  him,  and 
around  him,  and  then  looked  up  at  her,  with  a  face  so 
pale  that  Mrs.  Boffin  cried  : 


170  OUK   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

"  Gracious  1"  And  after  a  moment,  "  What's  the  mat- 
ter, Sir  ?» 

"  How  can  you  show  her  the  Dead  ?"  returned  Mr, 
Rokesmith. 

"  It's  only  an  adopted  child.  One  I  have  told  her  of. 
One  I'm  going  to  give  the  name  to  !" 

"You  took  me  by  surprise,"  said  Mr.  Rokesmith, 
1  and  it  sounded  like  an  omen,  that  you  should  speak  of 
showing  the  Dead  to  one  so  young  and  blooming." 

Now  Bella  suspected  by  this  time  that  Mr.  Rokesmith  ad- 
mired her.  Whether  the  knowledge  (for  it  was  rather  that 
than  suspicion)  caused  her  to  incline  to  him  a  little  more, 
or  a  little  less,  than  she  had  done  at  first  ;  whether  it 
rendered  her  eager  to  find  out  more  about  him,  because 
she  sought  to  establish  reason  for  her  distrust,  or  because 
she  sought  to  free  him  from  it ;  was  as  yet  dark  to  her 
own  heart.  But  at  most  times  he  occupied  a  great 
amount  of  her  attention,  and  she  had  set  her  attention 
closely  on  this  incident. 

That  he  knew  it  as  well  as  she,  she  knew  as  well  as  he, 
when  they  were  left  together  standing  on  the  path  by  the 
garden  gate. 

"  Those  are  worthy  people,  Miss  Wilfer." 

"  Do  you  know  them  well  ?"  asked  Bella. 

He  smiled,  reproaching  her,  and  she  colored,  reproach- 
ing herself — both,  with  the  knowledge  that  she  had  meant 
to  entrap  him  into  an  answer  not  true — when  he  said,  "  I 
know  of  them." 

"  Truly,  he  told  us  he  had  seen  you  but  once." 

"  Truly,  I  supposed  he  did." 

Bella  was  nervous  now,  and  would  have  been  glad  to 
recall  her  question. 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND.  171 

"  You  thought  it  strange  that,  feeling  much  interested 
in  you,  I  should  start  at  what  sounded  like  a  proposal  to 
bring  you  into  contact  with  the  murdered  man  who  lies  in 
his  grave.  I  might  have  known — of  course  in  a  moment 
should  have  known — that  it  could  not  have  that  meaning. 
But  my  interest  remains." 

Re-entering  the  family-room  in  a  meditative  state,  Miss 
Bella  was  received  by  the  irrepressible  Lavinia  with  : 

"  There,  Bella  !  At  last  I  hope  you  have  got  your 
wishes  realized — by  your  Boffins.  You'll  be  rich  enough 
now — with  your  Boffins.  You  can  have  as  much  flirting 
as  you  like — at  your  Boffins.  But  you  won't  take  me  to 
your  Boffins,  I  can  tell  you — you  and  your  Boffins  too  !" 

"  If,"  quoth  Mr.  George  Sampson,  moodily  pulling  his 
stopper  out,  "  Miss  Bella's  Mr.  Boffin  comes  any  more  of 
his  nonsense  to  me,  I  only  wish  him  to  understand,  as  be- 
twixt man  and  man,  that  he  does  it  at  his  per—"  and 
was  going  to  say  peril ;  but  Miss  Lavinia,  having  no  con- 
fidence in  his  mental  powers,  and  feeling  his  oration  to 
have  no  definite  application  to  any  circumstances,  jerked 
his  stopper  in  again,  with  a  sharpness  that  made  his  eyes 
water. 

And  now  the  worthy  Mrs.  Wilfer,  having  used  her 
youngest  daughter  as  a  lay-figure  for  the  edification  of 
these  Boffins,  became  bland  to  her,  and  proceeded  to  de- 
velop her  last  instance  of  force  of  character,  which  was  still 
in  reserve.  This  was,  to  illuminate  the  family  with  her 
remarkable  powers  as  a  physiognomist  ;  powers  that  ter- 
rified R.  W.  whenever  let  loose,  as  being  always  fraught' 
with  gloom  and  evil  which  no  inferior  prescience  was 
aware  of.  And  this  Mrs.  Wilfer  now  did,  be  it  observed. 
in  jealousy  of  these  Boffins,  in  the  very  same  moments 


172  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

when  she  was  already  reflecting  how  she  would  flourish 
these  very  same  Boffins  and  the  state  they  kept,  over  the 
heads  of  her  Boffinless  friends. 

"Of  their  manners,"  said  Mrs.  Wilfer,  "  I  say  nothing. 
Of  their  appearance,  I  say  nothing.  Of  the  disinterested- 
ness of  their  intentions  towards  Be  11a,  I  say  nothing.  But 
the  craft,  the  secrecy,  the  dark,  deep  underhanded  plot- 
ting, written  in  Mrs.  Boffin's  countenance,  make  me 
shudder." 

As  an  uncontrovertible  proof  that  those  baleful  attri- 
butes were  all  there,  Mrs.  Wilfer  shuddered  on  the  spot 


OUR  MUTUAL   FRIEND.  173 


CHAPTER  X. 

A    MARRIAGE   CONTRACT.     « 

There  is  excitement  in  the  Veneering  mansion.  The 
mature  young  Jady  is  going  to  be  married  (powder  and  all) 
to  the  mature  young  gentleman,  and  she  is  to  be  married 
from  the  Veneering  house,  and  the  Veneerings  are  to  give 
the  breakfast.  The  Analytical,  who  objects  as  a  matter 
of  principle  to  every  thing  that  occurs  on  the  premises, 
necessarily  objects  to  the  match  ;  but  his  consent  has  been 
dispensed  with,  and  a  spring-van  is  delivering  its  load  of 
green-house  plants  at  the  door,  in  order  that  to-morrow's 
feast  may  be  crowned  with  flowers. 

The  mature  young  lady  is  a  lady  of  property.  The 
mature  young  gentleman  is  a  gentleman  of  property.  He 
invests  his  property.  He  goes,  in  a  condescending  ama- 
teurish way,  into  the  City,  attends  meetings  of  Directors, 
and  has  to  do  with  traffic  in  Shares.  As  is  well  known 
to  the  wise  in  their  generation,  traffic  in  Shares  is  the  one 
thing  to  have  to  do  with  in  this  world.  Have  no  ante- 
cedents, no  established  character,  no  cultivation,  no  ideas, 
no  manners  ;  have  Shares.  Have  Shares  enough  to  be 
on  Boards  of  Direction  in  capital  letters,  oscillate  on  mys- 
terious business  between  London  and  Paris,  and  be  great. 
Where  does  he  come  from  ?  Shares.  Where  is  he  going 
to  ?    Shares.    What  are  his  tastes  ?    Shares.     Has  he 


174  OUR  MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

any  principles  ?  Shares.  What  squeezes  him  into  Par- 
liament ?  Shares.  Perhaps  he  never  of  himself  achieved 
success  in  any  thing,  never  originated  any  thing,  never 
produced  any  thing  ?  Sufficient  answer  to  all  ;  Shares. 
0  mighty  Shares  !  To  set  these  blaring  images  so  high, 
and  to  cause  us  smaller  vermin,  as  under  the  influence  of 
henbane  or  opium,  to  cry  out  night  and  day,  "  Relieve 
us  of  our  money,  scatter  it  for  us,  buy  us  and  sell  us,  ruin 
us,  only  we  beseech  ye  take  rank  among  the  powers  of 
the  earth,  and  fatten  on  us  1" 

While  the  Loves  and  Graces  have  been  preparing  this 
torch  for  Hymen,  which  is  to  be  kindled  to-morrow,  Mr. 
Twemlow  has  suffered  much  in  his  mind.  It  would  seem 
that  both  the  mature  young  lady  and  the  mature  young 
gentleman  must  indubitably  be  Veneering' s  oldest  friends. 
Wards  of  his,  perhaps  ?  Yet  that  can  scarcely  be,  for 
they  are  older  than  himself.  Veneering  has  been  in  their 
confidence  throughout,  and  has  done  much  to  lure  them 
to  the  altar.  He  has  mentioned  to  Twemlow  how  he 
said  to  Mrs.  Veneering,  "  Anastatia,  this  must  be  a 
match."  He  has  mentioned  to  Twemlow  how  he  regards 
Sophronia  Akershem  (the  mature  young  lady)  in  the 
light  of  a  sister,  and  Alfred  Lammle  (the  mature  young 
gentleman)  in  the  light  of  a  brother.  Twemlow  has 
asked  him  whether  he  went  to  school  as  a  junior  with 
Alfred  ?  He  has  answered,  "  Not  exactly."  Whether 
Sophronia  was  adopted  by  his  mother  ?  He  has  answer- 
ed, "  Not  precisely  so."  Twenilow's  hand  has  gone  to  his 
forehead  with  a  lost  air. 

But,  two  or  three  weeks  ago,  Twemlow,  sitting  over 
his  newspaper,  and  over  his  dry  toast  and  weak  tea,  and 
over  the  stable-yard  in  Duke  Street,  St.  James's,  received 


OUR   MUTUAL  FRIEND.  175 

a  highly-perfumed  cocked-hat  and  monogram  from  Mrs. 
Yeneering,  entreating  her  dearest  Mr.  T.,  if  not  particu- 
larly engaged  that  day,  to  come  like  a  charming  soul  and 
make  a  fourth  at  dinner  with  dear  Mr.  Podsnap,  for  the 
discussion  of  an  interesting  family  topic  ;  the  last  three 
words  doubly  underlined  and  pointed  with  a  note  of  ad- 
miration. And  Twemlow,  replying,  "  Not  engaged,  and 
more  than  delighted,"  goes,  and  this  takes  place  : 

11  My  dear  Twemlow,"  says  Yeneering,  "  your  ready 
response  to  Auastatia's  unceremonious  invitation  is  truly 
kind,  and  like  an  old,  old  friend.  You  know  our  dear 
friend  Podsnap  1n 

Twemlow  ought  to  know  the  dear  friend  Podsnap  who 
covered  him  with  so  much  confusion,  and  he  says  he  does 
know  him,  and  Podsnap  reciprocates.  Apparently,  Pod- 
snap has  been  so  wrought  upon  in  a  short  time,  as  to  be- 
lieve that  he  has  been  intimate  in  the  house  many,  many, 
many  years.  In  the  friendliest  manner  he  is  making  him- 
self quite  at  home  with  his  back  to  the  fire,  executing  a 
statuette  of  the  Colossus  at  Rhodes.  Twemlow  has  be- 
fore noticed  in  his  feeble  way  how  soon  the  Yeneering 
guests  become  infected  with  the  Yeneering  fiction.  Not, 
however,  that  he  has  the  least  notion  of  its  being  his  own 
case. 

"  Our  friends,  Alfred  and  Sophronia,"  pursues  Yeneer- 
ing the  veiled  prophet  :  "  our  friends  Alfred  and  Soph- 
ronia, you  will  be  glad  to  hear,  my  dear  fellows,  are  go- 
ing to  be  married.  As  my  wife  and  I  make  it  a  family 
affair  the  entire  direction  of  which  we  take  upon  our- 
selves, of  course  our  first  step  is  to  communicate  the  fact 
to  our  family  friends. 

("  Oh  !"  thinks  Twemlow,   with  his   eyes   on   Pods- 


176  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

nap,  "then  there  are  only  two  of  us,  and  he's  the 
other.") 

"  I  did  hope,"  Veneering  goes  on,  "  to  have  had  Lady 
Tippins  to  meet  you  ;  but  she  is  always  in  request,  and 
is  unfortunately  engaged.7' 

("  Oh  !"  thinks  Twemlow,  with  his  eyes  wandering, 
"then  there  are  three  of  us,  and  she's  the  other.") 

"  Mortimer  Lightwood,"  resumes  Veneering,  "  whom 
you  both  know,  is  out  of  town  ;  but  he  writes,  in  his 
whimsical  manner,  that  as  we  ask  him  to  be  bridegroom's 
best  man  when  the  ceremony  takes  place,  he  will  not 
refuse,  though  he  doesn't  see  what  he  has  to  do  with 
it." 

("Oh  !"  thinks  Twemlow,  with  his  eyes  rolling,  "  then 
there  are  four  of  us,  and  he's  the  other.") 

"  Boots  and  Brewer,"  observes  Veneering,  "  whom  you 
also  know,  I  have  not  asked  to-day  ;  but  I  reserve  them 
for  the  occasion." 

("  Then,"  thinks  Twemlow,  with  his  eyes  shut,  "  there 
are  si — "  But  here  collapses  and  does  not  completely 
recover  until  dinner  is  over  and  the  Analytical  has  been 
requested  to  withdraw.) 

11  We  now  come,"  says  Veneering,  "to  the  point,  the 
real  point,  of  our  little  family  consultation.  Sophronia, 
having  lost  both  father  and  mother,  has  no  one  to  give 
her  away." 

"  Give  her  away  yourself,"  says  Podsnap. 

"  My  dear  Podsnap,  no.  For  three  reasons.  Firstly, 
because  I  couldn't  take  so  much  upon  myself  when  I  have 
respected  family  friends  to  remember.  Secondly,  because 
I  am  not  so  vaiu  as  to  think  that  I  look  the  part.  Thirdly, 
because  Anastatia  is  a  little  superstitious  on  the  subject, 


OUR  MUTUAL   FRIEND.  177 

and  feels  averse  to  my  giving  away  any  body  until  baby 
is  old  enough  to  be  married." 

"  What  would  happen  if  he  did  ?"  Podsnap  inquires  of 
Mrs.  Veneering. 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Podsnap,  it's  very  foolish  I  know,  but  I 
have  an  instinctive  presentiment  that  if  Hamilton  gave 
away  any  body  else  first,  he  would  never  give  away  baby." 
Thus  Mrs.  Veneering  ;  with  her  open  hands  pressed  to- 
gether, and  each  of  her  eight  aquiline  fingers  looking  so 
very  like  her  one  aquiline  nose  that  the  bran-new  jewels 
on  them  seem  necessary  for  distinction's  sake. 

"  But,  my  dear  Podsnap,"  quoth  Veneering,  "  there  is 
a  tried  friend  of  our  family  who,  I  think  and  hope  you 
will  agree  with  me,  Podsnap,  is  the  friend  on  whom  this 
agreeable  duty  almost  naturally  devolves.  That  friend," 
saying  the  words  as  if  the  company  were  about  a  hundred 
and  fifty  in  number,  "  is  now  among  us.  That  friend  is 
Twemlow." 

"  Certainly  !"     From  Podsnap. 

"  That  friend,"  Veneering  repeats  with  greater  firmness, 
"  is  our  dear,  good  Twemlow.  And  I  can  not  sufficiently 
express  to  you,  my  dear  Podsnap,  the  pleasure  I  feel  in 
having  this  opinion  of  mine  and  Anastatia's  so  readily 
confirmed  by  you,  that  other  equally  familiar  and  tried 
friend  who  stands  in  the  proud  position — I  mean  who 
proudly  stands  in  the  position — or  I  ought  rather  to  say, 
who  places  Anastatia  and  myself  in  the  proud  position  of 
himself  standing  in  the  simple  position — of  baby's  god- 
father." And,  indeed,  Veneering  is  much  relieved  in 
mind  to  find  that  Podsnap  betrays  no  jealousy  of  Twem- 
low's  elevation. 

So  it  has  come  to  pass  that  the  spring-van  is  strewing 


178  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

flowers  on  the  rosy  hours  and  on  the  staircase,  and  that 
Twemlow  is  surveying  the  ground  on  which  he  is  to  play 
his  distinguished  part  to-morrow.  He  has  already  been 
to  the  church,  and  taken  note  of  the  various  impediments 
in  the  aisle,  under  the  auspices  of  an  extremely  dreary 
widow,  who  opens  the  pews,  and  whose  left  hand  appears 
to  be  in  a  state  of  acute  rheumatism,  but  is  in  fact  volun- 
tarily doubled  up  to  act  as  a  money-box. 

And  now  Veneering  shoots  out  of  the  Study  wherein 
he  is  accustomed,  when  contemplative,  to  give  his  mind  to 
the  carving  and  gilding  of  the  Pilgrims  going  to  Canter- 
bury, in  order  to  show  Twemlow  the  little  flourish  he  has 
prepared  for  the  trumpets  of  fashion,  describing  how  that 
on  the  seventeenth  instant,  at  St.  James's  Church,  the 
Reverend  Blank  Blank,  assisted  by  the  Reverend  Dash 
Dash,  united  in  the  bonds  of  matrimony,  Alfred  Lammle, 
Esquire,  of  Sackville  Street,  Piccadilly,  to  Sophronia, 
only  daughter  of  the  late  Horatio  Akershem,  Esquire,  of 
Yorkshire.  Also  how  the  fair  bride  was  married  from 
the  house  of  Hamilton  Veneering,  Esquire,  of  Stucconia, 
and  was  given  away  by  Melvin  Twemlow,  Esquire,  of 
Duke  Street,  St.  James's,  second  cousin  to  Lord  Snigs- 
worth,  of  Snigsworthy  Park.  While  perusing  which  com- 
position, Twemlow  makes  some  opaque  approach  to  per- 
ceiving that  if  the  Reverend  Blank  Blank,  and  the  Rever 
end  Dash  Dash  fail,  after  this  introduction,  to  become 
enrolled  in  the  list  of  Veneeriug's  dearest  and  oldest 
friends,  they  will  have  none  but  themselves  to  thank 
for  it. 

After  which,  appears  Sophronia,  (whom  Twemlow  has 
seen  twice  in  his  lifetime),  to  thank  Twemlow  for  coun- 
terfeiting the  late  Horatio  Akershem,  Esquire,  broadly  of 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  179 

Torkshire.  And  after  her,  appears  Alfred  (whom  Twem- 
iow  has  seen  once  in  his  lifetime),  to  do  the  same  and  to 
make  a  hasty  sort  of  glitter,  as  if  he  were  constructed  for 
candle-light  only,  and  had  been  let  out  into  daylight  by 
some  grand  mistake.  And  after  that  comes  Mrs.  Veneer- 
ing, in  a  pervadingly  aquiline  state  of  figure,  and  with 
transparent  little  knobs  on  her  temper,  like  the  little 
transparent  knob  on  the  bridge  of  her  nose,  "  Worn  out 
by  worry  and  excitement,"  as  she  tells  her  dear  Mr.  Twem- 
low,  and  reluctantly  revived  with  curacoa  by  the  Analy- 
tical. And  after  that,  the  bridemaids  begin  to  come  by 
railroad  from  various  parts  of  the  country,  and  to  come 
like  adorable  recruits  enlisted  by  a  sergeant  not  present  ; 
for,  on  arriving  at  the  Veneering  depot,  they  are  in  a 
barrack  of  strangers. 

So  Twemlow  goes  home  to  Duke  Street,  St.  James's, 
to  take  a  plate  of  mutton  broth  with  a  chop  in  it,  and  a 
look  at  the  marriage-service,  in  order  that  he  may  cut  in 
at  the  right  place  to-morrow  ;  and  he  is  low,  and  feels  it 
dull  over  the  livery  stable-yard,  and  is  distinctly  aware  of  a 
dint  in  his  heart,  made  by  the  most  adorable  of  the  adorable 
bridemaids.  For,  the  poor  little  harmless  gentleman  once 
had  his  fancy,  like  the  rest  of  us,  and  she  didn't  answer 
(as  she  often  does  not),  and  he  thinks  the  adorable  bride- 
maid  is  like  the  fancy  as  she  was  then  (which  she  is  not 
at  all),  and  that  if  the  fancy  had  not  married  some  one 
else  for  money,  but  had  married  him  for  love,  he  and  she 
would  have  been  happy,  (which  they  wouldn't  have  been), 
and  that  she  has  a  tenderness  for  him  still  (whereas  her 
toughness  is  a  proverb).  Brooding  over  the  fire,  with  his 
dried  little  head  in  his  dried  little  hands,  and  his  dried' 
little  elbows  on  his  dried  little  knees,  Twemlow  is  melan- 

9 


180  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

choly.  "  No  Adorable  to  bear  me  company  here  !" 
thinks  he.  "No  Adorable  at  the  club  !  A  waste,  a 
waste,  a  waste,  my  Tvvemlow  V  And  so  drops  asleep, 
and  has  galvanic  starts  all  over  him. 

Betimes  next  morning,  that  horrible  old  Lady  Tippins 
(relict  of  the  late  Sir  Thomas  Tippins,  knighted  in  mis- 
take for  somebody  else  by  His  Majesty  King  George  the 
Third,  who,  while  performing  the  ceremony,  was  gracious- 
ly pleased  to  observe,  "  What,  what,  what  ?  Who,  who, 
who  ?  Why,  why,  why  ?")  begins  to  be  dyed  and  varn- 
ished for  the  interesting  occasion.  She  has  a  reputation 
for  giving  smart  accounts  of  things,  and  she  must  be  at 
these  people's  early,  my  dear,  to  lose  nothing  of  the  fun. 
Whereabout  in  the  bonnet  and  drapery  announced  by  her 
name,  any  fragment  of  the  real  woman  may  be  concealed, 
is  perhaps  known  to  her  maid  ;  but  you  could  easily  buy 
all  you  see  of  her,  in  Bond  Street  ;  or  you  might  scalp 
her,  and  peel  her,  and  scrape  her,  and  make  two  Lady 
Tippinses  out  of- her,  and  yet  not  penetrate  to  the  genuine 
article.  She  has  a  large  gold  eye-glass,  has  Lady  Tip- 
pins, to  survey  the  proceedings  with.  If  she  had  one  in 
each  eye,  it  might  keep  that  other  drooping  lid  up,  and 
look  more  uniform.  But  perennial  youth  is  in  her  artifi- 
cial flowers,  and  her  list  of  lovers  is  full. 

"  Mortimer,  you  wretch,"  says  Lady  Tippins,  turning 
the  eye-glass  about  and  about,  "  where  is  your  charge,  the 
bridegroom  V' 

"  Give  you  my  honor,7'  returns  Mortimer,  "  I  don't 
know,  and  I  don't  care." 

"  Miserable  !     Is  that  the  way  you  do  your  duty  ?" 

"  Beyond  an  impression  that  he  is  to  sit  upon  my  knee 
and  be  seconded  at  some  point  of  the  solemnities,  like  a 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  181 

principal  at  a  prize-fight,  I  assure  you  I  have  no  notion 
what  my  duty  is,"  returns  Mortimer. 

Eugene  is  also  in  attendance,  with  a  pervading  air  up- 
on him  of  having  presupposed  the  ceremony  to  be  a  fune- 
ral, and  of  being  disappointed.  The  scene  is  the  Yestry- 
room  of  St.  James's  Church,  with  a  number  of  leathery 
old  registers  on  shelves,  that  might  be  bound  in  Lady  Tip- 
pinses. 

But,  hark  !  A  carriage  at  the  gate,  and  Mortimer's 
man  arrives,  looking  rather  like  a  spurious  Mephistopheles 
and  an  unacknowledged  member  of  that  gentleman's  fam- 
ily. Whom  Lady  Tippins,  surveying  through  her  eye- 
glass, considers  a  fine  man,  and  quite  a  catch  ;  and  of 
whom  Mortimer  remarks,  in  the  lowest  spirits,  as  he  ap- 
proaches, "  I  believe  this  is  my  fellow,  confound  him  I" 
More  carriages  at  the  gate,  and  lo  the  rest  of  the  charac- 
ters. Whom  Lady  Tippins,  standing  on  a  cushion,  sur- 
veying through  the  eye-glass,  thus  checks  off :  ' '  Bride  ; 
five-and-forty  if  a  day,  thirty  shillings  a  yard,  veil  fifteen 
pound,  pocket-handkerchief  a  present.  Bridemaids  ;  kept 
down  for  fear  of  outshining  bride,  consequently  not  girls, 
twelve  and  sixpence  a  yard,  Yeneering's  flowers,  snub- 
nosed  one  rather  pretty  but  too  conscious  of  her  stock- 
ings, bonnets  three  pound  ten.  Twemlow  ;  blessed  re- 
lease for  the  dear  man  if  she  really  was  his  daughter,  ner- 
vous even  under  the  pretense  that  she  is,  well  he  may  be. 
Mrs.  Yeneering  ;  never  saw  such  velvet,  say  two  thou- 
sand pounds  as  she  stands,  absolute  jeweler's  window,  fa- 
ther must  have  been  a  pawnbroker,  or  how  could  these 
people  do  it  ?     Attendant  unknowns  ;  pokey." 

Ceremony  performed,  register  signed,  Lady  Tippins  es- 
corted out  of  sacred  edifice  by  Yeneering,  carriages  roll- 


182  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

ing  back  to  Stucconia,  servants  with  favors  and  flowers, 
Veneering's  house  reached,  drawing-rooms  most  magnifi- 
cent. Here,  the  Podsnaps  await  the  happy  party  ;  Mr. 
Podsnap,  with  his  hair-brushes  made  the  most  of ;  that 
imperial  rocking-horse,  Mrs.  Podsnap,  majestically  skit- 
tish. Here,  too,  are  Boots  and  Brewer,  and  the  two  oth- 
er Buffers  ;  each  Buffer  with  a  flower  in  his  button-hole, 
his  hair  curled,  and  his  gloves  buttoned  on  tight,  appa- 
rently come  prepared,  if  anything  had  happened  to  the 
bridegroom,  to  be  married  instantly.  Here,  too,  the 
bride's  aunt  and  next  relation  ;  a  widowed  female  of  a 
Medusa  sort,  in  a  stony  cap,  glaring  petrifaction  at  her 
fellow-creatures.  Here,  too,  the  bride's  trustee  ;  an  oil- 
cake-fed style  of  business-gentleman  with  moony  specta- 
cles, and  an  object  of  much  interest.  Veneering  launch- 
ing himself  upon  this  trustee  as  his  oldest  friend  (which 
makes  seven,  Twemlow  thought),  and  confidentially  retir- 
ing with  him  into  the  conservatory,  it  is  understood  that 
Veneering  is  his  co-trustee,  and  that  they  are  arranging 
about  the  fortune.  Buffers  are  even  overheard  to  whis- 
per Thir-ty  Thou-sand  Pou-nds  !  with  a  smack  and  a  rel- 
ish suggestive  of  the  very  finest  oysters.  Pokey  unknowns, 
amazed  to  find  how  intimately  they  know  Veneering, 
pluck  up  spirit,  fold  their  arms,  and  begin  to  contradict 
him  before  breakfast.  What  time  Mrs.  Veneering,  car- 
rying baby  dressed  as  a  bridemaid,  flits  about  among  the 
company,  emitting  flashes  of  many-colored  lightning  from 
diamonds,  emeralds,  and  rubies. 

The  Analytical,  in  course  of  time  achieving  what  he 
feels  to  be  due  to  himself  in  bringing  to  a  dignified  con- 
clusion several  quarrels  he  has  on  hand  with  the  pastry- 
cook's men,  announces  breakfast.     Dining-room  no  less 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  183 

magnificent  than  the  drawing-room  ;  tables  superb  ;  all 
the  camels  out,  and  all  laden.  Splendid  cake,  covered 
with  Cupids,  silver,  and  true-lovers'  knots.  Splendid 
bracelet,  produced  by  Veneering  before  going  down,  and 
clasped  upon  the  arm  of  bride.  Yet  nobody  seems  to 
think  much  more  of  the  Yeneerings  than  if  they  were  a 
tolerable  landlord  and  landlady  doing  the  thing  in  the 
way  of  business  at  so  much  a  head.  The  bride  and  bride- 
groom talk  and  laugh  apart,  as  has  always  been  their 
manner  ;  and  the  Buffers  work  their  way  through  the 
dishes  with  systematic  perseverance,  as  has  always  been 
their  manner  ;  and  the  pokey  unknowns  are  exceedingly 
benevolent  to  one  another  in  invitations  to  take  glasses  of 
Champagne  ;  but  Mrs.  Podsnap,  arching  her  mane  and 
rocking  her  grandest,  has  a  far  more  deferential  audience 
than  Mrs.  Yeneering  ;  and  Podsnap  all  but  does  the 
honors. 

Another  dismal  circumstance  is,  that  Yeneering,  having 
the  captivating  Tippins  on  one  side  of  him  and  the  bride's 
aunt  on  the  other,  finds  it  immensely  difficult  to  keep  the 
peace.  For,  Medusa,  besides  unmistakiugly  glaring  pet- 
rifaction at  the  fascinating  Tippins,  follows  every  lively 
remark  made  by  that  dear  creature  with  an  audible  snort  : 
which  may  be  referable  to  a  chronic  cold  in  the  head,  but 
may  also  be  referable  to  indignation  and  contempt.  And 
this  snort  being  regular  in  its  reproduction,  at  length 
comes  to  be  expected  by  the  company,  who  make  embar- 
rassing pauses  when  it  is  falling  due,  and  by  waiting  for 
it,  render  it  more  emphatic  when  it  comes.  The  stony 
aunt  has  likewise  an  injurious  way  of  rejecting  all  dishes 
whereof  Lady  Tippins  partakes  :  saying  aloud  when  they 
are  proffered  to  her,   "  No,  no,  no,  not  for  me.     Take  it 


184  OUR   MUTUAL   FKIEND. 

away  !"  As  with  a  set  purpose  of  implying  a  misgiving 
that  if  nourished  upon  similar  meats  she  might  come  to  be 
like  that  charmer,  which  would  be  a  fatal  consummation. 
Aware  of  her  enemy,  Lady  Tippins  tries  a  youthful  sally 
or  two,  and  tries  the  eye-glass  ;  but,  from  the  impenetra- 
ble cap  and  snorting  armor  of  the  stony  aunt  all  weapons 
rebound  powerless. 

Another  objectionable  circumstance  is,  that  the  pokey 
unknowns  support  each  other  in  being  unimpressible.  They 
persist  in  not  being  frightened  by  the  gold  and  silver  camels, 
and  they  are  banded  together  to  defy  the  elaborately  chased 
ice-pails.  They  even  seem  to  unite  in  some  vague  utterance 
of  the  sentiment  that  the  landlord  and  landlady  will  make 
a  pretty  good  profit  out  of  this,  and  they  almost  carry 
themselves  like  customers.  Nor  is  there  compensating  in- 
fluence in  the  adorable  bridemaids  ;  for,  having  very  lit- 
tle interest  in  the  bride,  and  none  at  all  in  one  another, 
those  lovely  beings  become,  each  one  on  her  own  account, 
depreciatingly  contemplative  of  the  millinery  present ;  while 
the  bridegroom's  man,  exhausted,  in  the  back  of  his  chair, 
appears  to  be  improving  the  occasion  by  penitentially  con- 
templating all  the  wrong  he  has  ever  done  ;  the  differ- 
ence between  him  and  his  friend  Eugene,  being,  that  the 
latter,  in  the  back  of  his  chair,  appears  to  be  contempla- 
ting all  the  wrong  he  would  like  to  do — particularly  to 
the  present  company. 

In  which  state  of  affairs,  the  usual  ceremonies  rather 
droop  and  flag,  and  the  splendid  cake  when  cut  by  the 
fair  hand  of  the  bride  has  but  an  indigestible  appearance. 
However,  all  the  things  indispensable  to  be  said  are  said, 
and  all  the  things  indispensable  to  be  done  are  done  (in- 
cluding Lady  Tippins's  yawning,  falling  asleep,  and  waking 


OUR  MUTUAL   FRIEND.  185 

insensible),  and  there  is  hurried  preparation  for  the  nup- 
tial journey  to  the  Isle  of  Wight,  and  the  outer  air  teems 
with  brass  bands  and  spectators.  In  full  sight  of  whom, 
the  malignant  star  of  the  Analytical  has  pre-ordained  that 
pain  and  ridicule  shall  befall  him.  For  he,  standing  on 
the  doorsteps  to  grace  the  departure,  is  suddenly  caught 
a  most  prodigious  thump  on  the  side  of  his  head  with  a 
heavy  shoe,  which  a  Buffer  in  the  hall,  Champagne-flushed 
and  wild  of  aim,  has  borrowed  on  the  spur  of  the  moment 
from  the  pastry-cook's  porter,  to  cast  after  the  departing 
pair  as  an  auspicious  omen. 

So  they  all  go  up  again  into  the  gorgeous  drawing- 
rooms — all  of  them  flushed  with  breakfast,  as  having  taken 
scarlatina  sociably — and  there  the  combined  unknowns 
do  malignant  things  with  their  legs  to  ottomans,  o,nd  take 
as  much  as  possible  out  of  the  splendid  furniture.  And 
so,  Lady  Tippins,  quite  undetermined  whether  to-day  is 
the  day  before  yesterday,  or  the  day  after  to-morrow,  or 
the  week  after  next,  fades  away  ;  and  Mortimer  Light- 
wood  and  Eugene  fade  away,  and  Twemlow  fades  away, 
and  the  stony  aunt  goes  away— she  declines  to  fade,  prov- 
ing rock  to  the  last — and  even  the  unknowns  are  slowly 
strained  off,  and  it  is  all  over. 

All  over,  that  is  to  say,  for  the  time  being.  But  there 
is  another  time  to  come,  and  it  comes  in  about  a  fortnight, 
and  it  comes  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lammle  on  the  sands  at 
Shanklin,  in  the  Isle  of  Wight. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lammle  have  walked  for  some  time  on 
the  Shanklin  sands,  and  one  may  see  by  their  footprints 
that  they  have  not  walked  arm  in  arm,  and  that  they 
have  not  walked  in  a  straight  track,  and  that  they  have 
walked  iu  a  moody  humor  ;  for  the  lady  has  prodded  lit- 


186  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

tie  spirting  holes  in  the  damp  sand  before  her  with  her 
parasol,  and  the  gentleman  has  trailed  his  stick  after  him. 
As  if  he  were  of  a  Mephistopheles  family  indeed,  and  had 
walked  with  a  drooping  tail. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me,  then,  Sophronia — " 

Thus  he  begins  after  a  long  silence,  when  Sophronia 
flashes  fiercely,  and  turns  upon  him. 

"  Don't  put  it  upon  me,  Sir.  I  ask  you,  do  you  mean 
to  tell  me  ?" 

Mr.  Lammle  falls  silent  again,  and  they  walk  as  before. 
Mrs.  Lammle  opens  her  nostrils  and  bites  her  under-lip  ; 
Mr.  Lammle  takes  his  gingerous  whiskers  in  his  left  haud, 
and,  bringing  them  together,  frowns  furtively  at  his  be- 
loved, out  of  a  thick  gingerous  bush. 

"  Do  /mean  to  say  1"  Mrs.  Lammle  after  a  time  re- 
peats, with  indignation.  "  Putting  it  on  me  1  The  un- 
manly disingenuousness  !" 

Mr.  Lammle  stops,  releases  his  whiskers,  and  looks  at 
her.     "  The  what  ?" 

Mrs.  Lammle  haughtily  replies,  without  stopping,  and 
without  looking  back.     "  The  meanness." 

He  is  at  her  side  again  in  a  pace  or  two,  and  he  retorts, 
"  That  is  not  what  you  said.    You  said  disingenuousness." 

"  What  if  I  did  ?" 

11  There  is  no  'if  in  the  case.     "  You  did." 

"  I  did  then.     And  what  of  it  ?" 

"  What  of  it  ?"  says  Mr.  Lammle.  "  Have  you  the 
face  to  utter  the  word  to  me  ?" 

11  The  face,  too  1"  replied  Mrs.  Lammle,  staring  at  him 
with  cold  scorn.  "  Pray,  how  dare  you,  Sir,  utter  the 
word  to  me  ?" 

"  I  never  did." 


OUR   MUTUAL   FKIEND.  .    187 

As  this  happens  to  be  true,  Mrs.  Lammle  is  thrown  on 
the  feminine  resource  of  saying,  "  I  don't  care  what  you 
uttered  or  did  not  utter." 

After  a  little  more  walking  and  a  little  more  silence, 
Mr.  Lammle  breaks  the  latter. 

"  You  shall  proceed  in  your  own  way.  You  claim  a 
right  to  ask  me  do  I  mean  to  tell  you.  Do  I  mean  to 
tell  you  what  ?" 

"  That  you  are  a  man  of  property  ?" 

"  No." 

"  Then  you  married  me  on  false  pretenses  ?" 

"  So  be  it.  Next  comes  what  you  mean  to  say.  Do 
you  mean  to  say  you  are  a  woman  of  property  ?" 

"  No." 

"  Then  you  married  me  on  false  pretenses." 

"  If  you  were  so  dull  a  fortune-hunter  that  you  deceived 
yourself,  or  if  you  were  so  greedy  and  grasping  that  you 
were  oveu-willing  to  be  deceived  by  appearances,  is  it  my 
fault,  you  adventurer  ?"  the  lady  demands,  with  great 
asperity. 

"  I  asked  Yencering,  and  he  told  me  you  were  rich." 

M  Yencering  1"  with  great  contempt.  "  And  what  does 
Veneering  know  about  me  I" 

"  Was  he  not  your  trustee  ?" 

"  No.  I  have  no  trustee  but  the  one  you  saw  on  the 
day  when  you  fraudulently  married  me.  And  his  trust  is 
not  a  very  difficult  one,  for  it  is  only  an  annuity  of  a  hun- 
dred and  fifteen  pounds.  I  think  there  are  some  odd 
shillings  or  pence,  if  you  are  very  particular." 

Mr.  Lammle  bestows  a  by  no  means  loving  look  upon 
the  partner  of  his  joys  and  sorrows,  and  he  mutters  some- 
thing ;  but  checks  himself. 

9* 


188  OUR   MUTUAL    FRIEND. 

"  Question  for  question.  It  is  my  turn  again,  Mrs. 
Lammle.  What  made  you  suppose  me  a  man  of  pro- 
perty ?" 

"  You  made  me  suppose  you  so.  Perhaps  you  will 
deny  that  you  always  presented  yourself  to  me  in  that 
character  ?" 

"  But  you  asked  somebody,  too.  Come,  Mrs.  Lammle, 
admission  for  admission.     You  asked  somebody  V 

"  I  asked  Veneering." 

"  And  Veneering  knew  as  much  of  me  as  he  knew  of 
you,  or  as  any  body  knows  of  him." 

After  more  silent  walking,  the  bride  stops  short,  to  say 
in  a  passionate  manner  : 

"  I  never  will  forgive  the  Veneering  s  for  this  I" 

"  Neither  will  I,"  returns  the  bridegroom. 

With  that  they  walk  again  ;  she  making  those  angry 
spirts  in  the  sand  ;  he,  dragging  that  dejected  tail.  The 
tide  is  low,  and  seems  to  have  thrown  them  together  high 
on  the  bare  shore.  A  gull  comes  sweeping  by  their 
heads,  and  flouts  them.  There  was  a  golden  surface  on 
the  brown  cliffs  but  now,  and  hehold  they  are  only  damp 
earrth.  A  taunting  roar  comes  from  the  sea,  and  the  far- 
out  rollers  mount  upon  one  another,  to  look  at  the  entrap- 
ped impostors,  and  to  join  in  impish  and  exultant 
gambols. 

"  Do  you  pretend  to  believe,"  Mrs.  Lammle  resumes, 
sternly,  "  when  you  talk  of  my  marrying  you  for  worldly 
advantages,  that  it  was  within  the  bounds  of  reasonable 
probability  that  I  would  have  married  you  for  your- 
self ?" 

"  Again  there  are  two  sides  to  the  question,  Mrs.  Lam- 
mle.    What  do  you  pretend  to  believe  ?" 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  189 

"  So  you  first  deceive  me  and  then  insult  me  1"  cries 
the  lady,  with  a  heaving  bosom. 

"  Not  at  all.  I  have  originated  nothing.  The  double- 
edged  question  was  yours." 

"  Was  mine  !"  the  bride  repeats,  and  her  parasol  breaks 
in  her  angry  hand. 

His  color  has  turned  to  a  livid  white,  and  ominous 
marks  have  come  to  light  about  his  nose,  as  if  the  finger 
of  the  very  devil  himself  had,  within  the  last  few  moments, 
touched  it  here  and  there.  But  he  has  repressive  power, 
and  she  has  none. 

"  Throw  it  away,"  he  coolly  recommends  as  to  the 
parasol  ;  "  you  have  made  it  useless  ;  you  look  ridiculous 
with  it." 

Whereupon  she  calls  him  in  her  rage,  "  A  deliberate 
villain,"  and  so  casts  the  broken  thing  from  her  as  that  it 
strikes  him  in  falling.  The  finger-marks  are  something 
whiter  for  the  instant,  but  he  walks  on  at  her  side. 

She  bursts  into  tears,  declaring  herself  the  wretchedest, 
the  most  deceived,  the  worst-used  of  women.  Then  she 
says  that  if  she  had  the  courage  to  kill  herself  she  would 
do  it.  Then  she  calls  him  vile  impostor.  Then  she  asks 
him,  why,  in  the  disappointment  of  his  base  speculations, 
he  does  not  take  her  life  with  his  own  hand,  under  the 
present  favorable  circumstances.  Then  she  cries  again. 
Then  she  is  enraged  again,  and  makes  some  mention  of 
swindlers.  Finally,  she  sits  down  crying  on  a  block  of 
stone,  and  is  in  all  the  known  and  unknown  humors  of  her 
sex  at  once.  Pending  her  changes,  those  aforesaid  marks 
in  his  face  have  come  and  gone,  now  here  now  there,  like 
white  stops  of  a  pipe  on  which  the  diabolical  performer 
has  played  a  tune.     Also  his  livid  lips  are  parted  at 


190  OUR  MUTUAL  FEIEND. 

last,  as  if  he  were  breathless  with  running.    Yet  he  i3 
not. 

"Now,  get  up,  Mrs.  Lammle,  and  let  us  speak  rea- 
sonably." 

She  sits  upon  her  stone,  and  takes  no  heed  of  him. 

"  Get  up,  I  tell  you." 
.    Raising  her  head,  she  looks  contemptuously  in  his  face, 
and  repeats,  "  You  tell  me  !     Tell  me,  forsooth  1" 

She  affects  not  to  know  that  his  eyes  are  fastened  on 
her  as  she  droops  her  head  again  ;  but  her  whole  figure 
reveals  that  she  knows  it  uneasily. 

"  Enough  of  this.     Come.     Do  you  hear  ?     Get  up." 

Yielding  to  his  hand,  she  rises,  and  they  walk  again  ; 
but  this  time  with  their  faces  turned  toward  their  place  of 
residence. 

"  Mrs.  Lammle,  we  have  both  been  deceiving,  and  we 
have  both  been  deceived.  We  have  both  been  biting, 
and  we  have  both  been  bitten.  In  a  nut-shell,  there's  the 
state  of  the  case." 

"  You  sought  me  out — " 

"  Tut  !  Let  us  have  done  with  that.  We  know  very 
well  how  it  was.  Why  should  you  and  I  talk  about  it, 
when  you  and  I  can't  disguise  it  ?  To  proceed.  I  am 
disappointed,  and  cut  a  poor  figure." 

"  Am  I  no  one  ?" 

"  Some  one — and  I  was  coming  to  you,  if  you  had 
waited  a  moment.  You,  too,  are  disappointed  and  cut  a 
poor  figure." 

"  An  injured  figure  I" 

"  You  are  now  cool  enough,  Sophronia,  to  see  that 
you  can't  be  injured  without  my  being  equally  in- 
jured ;    and   that    therefore  the  mere  word  is  not  to 


OUR  MTJTUAIi  FEIEND.  191 

the  purpose.  When  I  look  back,  I  wonder  how  I  can 
have  been  such  a  fool  as  to  take  you  to  so  great  an  ex 
tent  upon  trust." 

"  And  when  I  look  back — "  the  bride  cries,  inter- 
rupting. 

"  And  when  you  look  back,  you  wonder  how  you  can 
have  been — you'll  excuse  the  word  ?" 

"  Most  certainly,  with  so  much  reason." 

"  — Such  a  fool  as  to  take  me  to  so  great  an  extent 
upon  trust.  But  the  folly  is  committed  on  both  sides.  I 
can  not  get  rid  of  you  ;  you  can  not  get  rid  of  me.  What 
follows  ?" 

"  Shame  and  misery,"  the  bride  bitterly  replies. 

"  I  don't  know.  A.  mutual  understanding  follows,  and 
I  think  it  may  carry  us  through.  Here  I  split  my  dis- 
course (give  me  your  arm,  Sophronia,)  into  three  heads, 
to  make  it  shorter  and  plainer.  Firstly,  it's  enough  to 
have  been  done,  without  the  mortification  of  being  known 
to  have  been  done.  So  we  agree  to  keep  the  fact  to  our- 
selves.    You  agree  ?" 

"  If  it  is  possible,  I  do." 

H  Possible  I  We  have  pretended  well  enough  to  one 
another.  Can't  we,  united,  pretend  to  the  world  ? 
Agreed.  Secondly,  we  owe  the  Yeneering's  a  grudge, 
and  we  owe  all  other  people  the  grudge  of  wish- 
ing them  to  be  taken  in,  as  we  ourselves  have  been  taken 
in.     Agreed  ?" 

"Yes.     Agreed." 

"  We  come  smoothly  to  thirdly.  You  have  called  me 
an  adventurer,  Sophronia.  So  I  am.  In  plain  uncom- 
plimentary English,  so  I  am.  So  are  you,  my  dear. 
So  are  many  people.     We  agree  to  keep  oar  own  secret, 


192  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

and  to  work  together  in  furtherance  of  our  own 
schemes  ?" 

"  What  schemes  ?" 

"  Any  scheme  that  will  bring  us  money.  By  our  own 
schemes,  I  mean  our  joint  interest.     Agreed  ?" 

She  answers,  after  a  little  hesitation,  "  I  suppose  so. 
Agreed." 

"  Carried  at  once,  you  see  !  Now,  Sophronia,  only  half 
a  dozen  words  more.  We  know  one  another  perfectly. 
Don't  be  tempted  into  twitting  me  with  the  past  knowledge 
that  you  have  of  me,  because  it  is  identical  with  the  past 
knowledge  that  I  have  of  you,  and  in  twitting  me  you 
twit  yourself,  and  I  don't  want  to  hear  you  do  it.  With 
this  good  understanding  established  between  us,  it  is  bet- 
ter never  done.  To  wind  up  all : — You  have  shown 
temper  to-day,  Sophronia.  Don't  be  betrayed  into 
doing  so  again,  because  I  have  a  Devil  of  a  temper 
myself." 

So  the  happy  pair,  with  this  hopeful  marriage  contract 
thus  signed,  sealed,  and  delivered,  repair  homeward.  If, 
when  those  infernal  finger-marks  were  on  the  white  and 
breathless  counteuance  of  Alfred  Lammle,  Esqnire,  they 
denoted  that  he  conceived  the  purpose  of  subduing  his 
dear  wife  Mrs.  Alfred  Lammle,  by  at  once  divesting  her 
of  any  lingering  reality  or  pretense  of  self-respect,  the 
purpose  would  seem  to  have  been  presently  executed. 
The  mature  young  lady  has  mighty  little  need  of  powder 
now,  for  her  downcast  face,  as  he  escorts  her  in  the  light 
of  the  setting  sun  to  their  abode  of  bliss. 


OUR  MUTUAL   FRIEND.  193 


CHAPTER  XI. 

PODSNAPPERY. 

Mr.  Podsnap  was  well  to  do,  and  stood  very  high  in 
Mr.  Podsnap's  opinion.  Beginning  with  a  good  inherit- 
ance, he  had  married  a  good  inheritance,  and  had  thriven 
exceedingly  in  the  Marine  Insurance  way,  and  was  quite 
satisfied.  He  never  could  make  out  why  every  body  was 
not  quite  satisfied,  and  he  felt  conscious  that  he  set  a 
brilliant  social  example  in  being  particularly  well  satisfied 
with  most  things,  and,  above  all  other  things,  with  him- 
self. 

Thus  happily  acquainted  with  his  own  merit  and  im- 
portance. Mr.  Podsnap  settled  that  whatever  he  put  be- 
hind him  he  put  out  of  existence.  There  was  a  dignified 
conclusiveness — not  to  add  a  grand  convenience — in  this 
way  of  getting  rid  of  disagreeables  which  had  done  much 
toward  establishing  Mr.  Podsnap  in  his  lofty  place  in  Mr. 
Podsnap's  satisfaction.  "  I  don't  want  to  know  about 
it ;  I  don't  choose  to  discuss  it  ;  I  don't  admit  it  I"  Mr 
Podsnap  had  even  acquired  a  peculiar  flourish  of  his  right 
arm  in  often  clearing  the  world  of  its  most  difficult  pro- 
blems, by  sweeping  them  behind  him  (and  consequently 
sheer  away)  with  those  words  and  a  flushed  face.  For 
they  affronted  him. 

Mr.  Podsnap's  world  was  not  a  very  large  world,  mor 
10 


194:  OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 

ally  ;  no,  nor  even  geographically  :  seeing  that  although 
his  business  was  sustained  upon  commerce  with  other  coun- 
tries, he  considered  other  countries,  with  that  important 
reservation,  a  mistake,  and  of  their  manners  and  customs 
would  conclusively  observe,  "  Not  English !"  when, 
Presto  !  with  a  flourish  of  the  arm,  and  a  flush  of  the 
face,  they  were  swept  away.  Elsewise,  the  world  got  up 
at  eight,  shaved  close  at  a  quarter  past,  breakfasted  at 
nine,  went  to  the  City  at  ten,  came  home  at  half  past 
five,  and  dined  at  seven.  Mr.  Podsnap's  notions  of  the 
Arts  in  their  integrity  might  have  been  stated  thus  :  Lit- 
erature ;  large  print,  respectfully  descriptive  of  getting  up 
at  eight,  shaving  close  at  a  quarter  past,  breakfasting  at 
nine,  going  to  the  City  at  ten,  coming  home  at  half  past 
five,  and  dining  at  seven.  Painting  and  Sculpture  ;  mod- 
els and  portraits  representing  Professors  of  getting  up  at 
eight,  shaving  close  at  a  quarter  past,  breakfasting  at 
nine,  going  to  the  City  at  ten,  coming  home  at  half  past 
five,  and  dining  at  seven.  Music  ;  a  respectable  perform- 
ance (without  variations)  on  stringed  and  wind  instru- 
ments, sedately  expressive  of  getting  up  at  eight,  shaving 
close  at  a  quarter  past,  breakfasting  at  nine,  going  to  the 
City  at  ten,  coming  home  at  half  past  five,  and  dining  at 
seven.  Nothing  else  to  be  permitted  to  those  same  va- 
grants the  Arts,  on  pain  of  excommuuication.  Nothing 
else  To  Be — any  where  1 

As  a  so  eminently  respectable  man,  Mr.  Podsnap  was 
sensible  of  its  being  required  of  him  to  take  Providence 
under  his  protection.  Consequently  he  always  knew  ex- 
actly what  Providence  meant.  Inferior  and  less  respect- 
able men  might  fall  short  of  that  mark,  but  Mr.  Podsnap 
was  always  up  to  it.     And  it  was  very  remarkable  (and 


OUR  MUTUAL   FRIEND.  195 

must  have  been  very  comfortable)  that  what  Providence 
meant  was  invariably  what  Mr.  Podsnap  meant. 

These  may  be  said  to  have  been  the  articles  of  a  faith 
and  school  which  the  present  chapter  takes  the  liberty  of 
calling,  after  its  representative  man,  Podsnappery.  They 
were  confined  within  close  bounds,  as  Mr.  Podsnap's  own 
head  was  confined  by  his  shirt-collar  ;  and  they  were  enun- 
ciated with  a  sounding  pomp  that  smacked  of  the  creak- 
ing of  Mr.  Podsnap's  own  boots. 

There  was  a  Miss  Podsnap.  And  this  young  rocking- 
horse  was  being  trained  in  her  mother's  art  of  prancing  in 
a  stately  manner  without  ever  getting  on.  But  the  high 
parental  action  was  not  yet  imparted  to  her,  and  in  truth 
she  was  but  an  undersized  damsel,  with  high  shoulders, 
low  spirits,  chilled  elbows,  and  a  rasped  surface  of  nose, 
who  seemed  to  take  occasional  frosty  peeps  out  of  child- 
hood into  womanhood,  and  to  shrink  back  again  over- 
come by  her  mother's  head-dress  and  her  father  from 
head  to  foot — crushed  by  the  mere  dead-weight  of  Pod- 
snappery. 

A  certain  institution  fn  Mr.  Podsnap's  mind  which  he 
called  "  the  young  person"  maybe  considered  to  have 
been  embodied  in  Miss  Podsnap,  his  daughter.  It  wag 
an  inconvenient  and  exacting  institution,  as  requiring 
every  thing  in  the  universe  to  be  filed  down  and  fitted  to 
it.  The  question  about  every  thing  was,  would  it  bring 
a  blush  into  the  cheek  of  the  young  person  ?  And  the 
inconvenience  of  the  young  person  was,  that,  according  to 
Mr.  Podsnap,  she  seemed  always  liable  to  burst  into  blush- 
es when  there  was  no  need  at  all.  There  appeared  to  be 
no  line  of  demarkation  between  the  young  person's  exces- 
sive innocence  and  another  person's  guiltiest  knowledge. 


196  OUR  MUTUAL   FRIEND 

Take  Mr.  Podsnap's  word  for  it,  and  the  soberest  tints  of 
drab,  white,  lilac,  and  gray,  were  all  flaming  red  to  this 
troublesome  Bull  of  a  young  person. 

The  Podsnaps  lived  in  a  shady  angle  adjoining  Port- 
man  Square.  They  were  a  kind  of  people  certain  to 
dwell  in  the  shade,  wherever  they  dwelt.  Miss  Podsnap's 
life  had  been,  from  her  first  appearance  on  this  planet,  al- 
together of  a  shady  order  ;  for  Mr.  Podsnap's  young  per- 
son was  likely  to  get  little  good  out  of  association  with 
other  young  persons,  and  had  therefore  been  restricted  to 
companionship  with  not  very  congenial  older  persons,  and 
with  massive  furniture.  Miss  Podsnap's  early  views  of 
life  being  principally  derived  from  the  reflections  of  it  in 
her  father's  boots,  and  in  the  walnut  and  rosewood  tables 
of  the  dim  drawing-rooms,  and  in  their  swarthy  giants  of 
looking-glasses,  were  of  a  sombre  cast ;  and  it  was  not 
wonderful  that  now,  when  she  was  on  most  days  solemnly 
tooled  through  the  Park  by  the  side  of  her  mother  in  a 
great  tall  custard-colored  phaeton,  she  showed  above  the 
apron  of  that  vehicle  like  a  dejected  young  person  sitting 
up  in  bed  to  take  a  startled  look  at  things  in  general,  and 
very  strongly  desiring  to  get  her  head  under  the  counter- 
pane again. 

Said  Mr.  Podsnap  to  Mrs.  Podsnap,  "  Georgianais  al- 
most eighteen." 

Said  Mrs.  Podsnap  to  Mr.  Podsnap,  assenting,  "  Al- 
most eighteen." 

Said  Mr.  Podsnap  then  to  Mrs.  Podsnap,  "  Really  I 
think  we  should  have  some  people  on  Georgiana's  birth- 
day." 

Said  Mrs.  Podsnap  then  to  Mr.  Podsnap,  "  Which 
will  enable  us  to  clear  oil'  all  those  people  who  are  due." 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  197 

So  it  came  to  pass  that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Podsnap  request- 
ed the  honor  of  the  company  of  seventeen  friends  of  their 
souls  at  dinner  ;  and  that  they  substituted  other  friends 
of  their  souls  for  such  of  the  seventeen  original  friends  of 
their  souls  as  deeply  regretted  that  a  prior  engagement 
prevented  their  having  the  honor  of  dining  with  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Podsnap,  in  pursuance  of  their  kind  invitation  ;  and 
that  Mrs.  Podsnap  said  of  all  these  inconsolable  person- 
ages, as  she  checked  them  off  with  a  pencil  in  her  list, 
11  Asked,  at  any  rate,  and  got  rid  of  ;"  and  that  they  suc- 
cessfully disposed  of  a  good  many  friends  of  their  souls  in 
this  way,  and  felt  their  consciences  much  lightened. 

There  were  still  other  friends  of  their  souls  who  were 
not  entitled  to  be  asked  to  dinner,  but  had  a  claim  to  be 
invited  to  come  and  take  a  haunch  of  mutton  vapor-bath 
at  half  past  nine.  For  the  clearing  off  of  these  worthies, 
Mrs.  Podsnap  added  a  small  and  early  evening  to  the  din- 
ner, and  looked  in  at  the  music-shop  to  bespeak  a  well- 
conducted  automaton  to  come  and  play  quadrilles  for  a 
carpet  dance. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Veneering,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Yeneering'a 
bran-new  bride  and  bridegroom,  were  of  the  dinner  com- 
pany ;  but  the  Podsnap  establishment  had  nothing  else 
in  common  with  the  Yeneerings.  Mr.  Podsnap  could  tol- 
erate taste  in  a  mushroom  man  who  stood  in  need  of  that 
sort  of  thing,  but  was  far  above  it  himself.  Hideous  sol- 
idity was  the  characteristic  of  the  Podsnap  plate.  Every 
thing  was  made  to  look  as  heavy  as  it  could,  and  to  take 
up  as  much  room  as  possible.  Every  thing  said  boastful- 
ly, "  Here  you  have  as  much  of  me  in  my  ugliness  as  if  I 
were  only  lead  ;  but  I  am  so  many  ounces  of  precious  me- 
tal worth  so  much  an  ounce  ; — wouldn't  you  like  to  melt 


198  OJTR  MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

me  down  ?"  A  corpulent  straddling  epergne,  blotched  all 
over  as  if  it  had  broken  out  in  an  eruption  rather  than 
been  ornamented,  delivered  this  address  from  an  unsightly 
silver  platform  in  the  centre  of  the  table.  Four  silver 
wine-coolers,  each  furnished  with  four  staring  heads,  each 
head  obtrusively  carrying  a  big  silver  ring  in  each  of  its 
ears  conveyed  the  sentiment  up  and  down  the  table,  and 
handed  it  on  to  the  pot-bellied  silver  salt-cellars.  All  the 
big  silver  spoons  and  forks  widened  the  mouths  of  the 
company  expressly  for  the  purpose  of  thrusting  the 
sentiment  down  their  throats  with  every  morsel  they 
ate. 

The  majority  of  the  guests  were  like  the  plate,  and  in- 
cluded several  heavy  articles  weighing  ever  so  much.  But 
there  was  a  foreign  gentleman  among  them  :  whom  Mr. 
Podsnap  had  invited  after  much  debate  with  himself — be- 
lieving the  whole  European  continent  to  be  in  mortal  al- 
liance against  the  young  person — and  there  was  a  droll 
disposition,  not  only  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Podsnap  but  of 
every  body  else,  to  treat  him  as  if  he  were  a  child  who  was 
hard  of  hearing. 

As  a  delicate  concession  to  this  unfortunately-born  for- 
eigner, Mr.  Podsnap,  in  receiving  him,  had  presented  his 
wife  as  "  Madame  Podsnap  ;"  also  his  daughter  as  "  Ma- 
demoiselle Podsnap,"  with  some  inclination  to  add  "  ma 
fillc,"  in  which  bold  venture,  however,  he  checked  himself. 
The  Yeneerings  being  at  that  time  the  only  other  arri- 
vals, he  had  added  (in  a  condescendingly  explanatory 
manner,)  "  Monsieur  Yey-nair-reeng,"  and  had  then  sub- 
)  ided  into  English. 

"  How  Do  You  Like  London  ?"  Mr.  Podsnap  now  in- 
nired  from  his  station  of  host,  as  if  he  were  administer- 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  199 

ing  something  in  the  nature  of  a  powder  or  potion  to  the 
deaf  child  ;  "  London,  Londres,  London  ?" 

The  foreign  gentleman  admired  it. 

"  You  find  it  Very  Large  ?"  said  Mr.  Podsnap,  spa- 
ciously. 

The  foreign  gentleman  found  it  very  large. 

"  And  Very  Rich  ?" 

The  foreign  gentleman  found  it,  without  doubt,  enor- 
mement  riche. 

11  Enormously  Rich,  We  say,"  returned  Mr.  Podsnap  in 
a  condescending  manner.  "  Our  English  adverbs  do  Not 
terminate  in  Mong,  and  We  Pronounce  the  '  ch'  as  if  there 
were  a  lV  before  it.     We  Say  Ritch." 

"  Reetch,"  remarked  the  foreign  gentleman. 

"  And  Do  You  Find,  Sir,"  pursued  Mr.  Podsnap,  with 
dignity,  "  Many  Evidences  that  Strike  You,  of  our  Brit- 
ish Constitution  in  the  Streets  Of  The  World's  Metropo- 
lis, London,  Londres,  London  ?" 

The  foreign  gentleman  begged  to  be  pardoned,  but  did 
not  altogether  understand. 

"The  Constitution  Brittannique,"  Mr.  Podsnap  ex- 
plained, as  if  he  were  teaching  in  an  infant  school.  "We 
Say  British,  But  You  Say  Britannique,  You  Know"  (for- 
givingly, as  if  that  were  not  his  fault).  "  The  Constitu- 
tion, Sir." 

The  foreign  gentleman  said,  "  Mais,  yees  :  I  know 
eem." 

A  youngish  sallowish  gentleman  in  spectacles,  with 
a  lumpy  forehead,  seated  in  a  supplementary  chair  at 
a  corner  of  the  table,  here  caused  a  profound  sensa- 
tion by  saying  in  a  raised  voice,  "  Esker,"  and  then 
stopping  dead. 


200  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

"  Mais  oui,"  said  the  foreign  gentleman,  turning  to- 
ward him.     "  Est-ce-que  ?     Quoi  done  ?" 

But  the  gentleman  with  the  lumpy  forehead  having 
for  the  time  delivered  himself  of  all  that  he  found  be- 
hind his  lumps,  spake  for  the  time  no  more. 

"  I  Was  Inquiring,"  said  Mr.  Podsnap,  resuming 
the  thread  of  his  discourse,  "  Whether  You  Have  Ob- 
served in  our  Streets  as  We  should  say,  Upon  our 
Pavvy  as  You  would  say,  any  Tokens- — " 

The  foreign  gentleman,  with  patient  courtesy  en- 
treated pardon  :  "  But  what  was  tokenz  V 

11  Marks,"  said  Mr.  Podsnap  ;  "  Signs,  you  know, 
Appearances — Traces." 

"  Ah  I  Of  a  Orse  ?"  inquired  the  foreign  gentle- 
man. 

"  We  call  it  Horse,"  said  Mr.  Podsnap,  with  for- 
bearance. In  England,  Angleterre,  England  We 
Aspirate  the  '  H,'  and  We  say  '  Horse.'  Only  our 
Lower  Classes  Say  '  Orse  !'  " 

"  Pardon,"  said  the  foreign  gentleman  ;  "I  am  al- 
wiz  wrong  !" 

"  Our  Language,"  said  Mr.  Podsnap,  with  a  gracious 
consciousness  of  being  always  right,  "  is  Difficult. 
Ours  is  a  Copious  Language,  and  Trying  to  Strangers. 
I  will  not  Pursue  my  Question." 

But  the  lumpy  gentleman,  unwilling  to  give  it  up, 
again  madly  said,  "  Esker,"  and  again  spake  no 
more. 

"  It  merely  referred,"  Mr.  Podsnap  explained,  with 
a  sense  of  meritorious  proprietorship,  "  to  Our  Con- 
stitution, Sir.  We  Englishmen  are  Very  Proud  of 
our  Constitution,  Sir.     It  Was  Bestowed  Upon  Us  By 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND.  201 

Providence.  No  Other  Country  is  so  Favored  as  Thi? 
Country." 

"  And  ozer  countries  ?" — the  foreign  gentleman  was 
beginning,  when  Mr.  Podsnap  put  him  right  again. 

"  We  do  not  say  Ozer  ;  we  say  Other  :  the  letter? 
are  '  T  ?  and  '  H  ;'  You  say  Tay  and  Aish,  You  know  ', 
(still  with  clemency).     The  sound  is  'th' — '  th  V  " 

"  And  other  countries,"  said  the  foreign  gentleman 
"  They  do  how  ?" 

11  They  do,  Sir,"  returned  Mr.  Podsnap,  gravely 
shaking  his  head  ;  "  they  do — I  am  sorry  to  be 
obliged  to  say  it — as  they  do." 

"  It  was  a  little  particular  of  Providence,"  said  the 
foreign  gentleman,  laughing  ;  "  for  the  frontier  is  not 
large." 

"  Undoubtedly,"  assented  Mr.  Podsnap  ;  "  But  so  it 
is.  It  was  the  Charter  of  the  Land.  This  Island  was 
Blest,  Sir,  to  the  Direct  Exclusion  of  such  Other 
Countries  as — as  there  may  happen  to  be.  And  if  we 
were  all  Englishmen  present,  I  would  say,"  added 
Mr.  Podsnap,  looking  round  upon  his  compatriots,  and 
sounding  solemnly  with  his  theme,  "that  there  is  in 
the  Englishman  a  combination  of  qualities,  a  modesty, 
an  independence,  a  responsibility,  a  repose,  combined 
with  an  absence  of  everything  calculated  to  call  a 
blush  into  the  cheek  of  a  young  person,  which  one 
would  seek  in  vain  among  the  Nations  of  the 
Earth." 

Having  delivered  this  little  summary,  Mr.  Pod- 
snap's  face  flushed  as  he  thought  of  the  remote  possi- 
bility of  its  being  at  all  qualified  by  any  prejudiced 
citizen  of  any  other  country  ;  and,  with  his  favorite 
10* 


202  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

right-arm  flourish,  he  put  the  rest  of  Europe  and  the 
whole  of  Asia,  Africa,  and  America  nowhere. 

The  audience  were  much  edified  by  this  passage  of 
words  ;  and  Mr.  Podsnap,  feeling  that  he  was  in 
rather  remarkable  force  to-day,  became  smiling  and 
conversational. 

"  Has  any  thing  more  been  heard,  Veneering,"  he 
inquired,  "  of  the  lucky  legatee  ?" 

"Nothing  more,"  returned  Veneering,  "than  thai 
he  has  come  into  possession  of  the  property.  I  am 
told  people  now  call  him  The  Golden  Dustman.  I 
mentioned  to  you  some  time  ago,  I  think,  that  the 
young  lady  whose  intended  husband  was  murdered  is 
daughter  to  a  clerk  of  mine  V1 

"  Yes,  you  told  me  that,"  said  Podsnap  ;  "  and  by 
the-by,  I  wish  you  would  tell  it  again  here,  for  it's  a 
curious  coincidence — curious  that  the  first  news  oi 
the  discovery  should  have  been  brought  straight  to 
your  table  (when  I  was  there),  and  curious  that  one 
of  your  people  should  have  been  so  nearly  interested 
in  it.     Just  relate  that,  will  you  ?" 

Veneering  was  more  than  ready  to  do  it,  for  he  had 
prospered  exceedingly  upon  the  Harmon  Murder,  and 
had  turned  the  social  distinction  it  conferred  upon 
him  to  the  account  of  making  several  dozen  of  bran- 
new  bosom-friends.  Indeed  such  another  lucky  hit 
would  almost  have  set  him  up  in  that  way  to  his 
satisfaction.  So,  addressing  himself  to  the  most  de 
sirable  of  his  neighbors,  while  Mrs.  Veneering  secured 
the  next  most  desirable,  he  plunged  into  the  case, 
and  emerged  from  it  twenty  minutes  afterwards  with 
a  Bank  Director  in  his  arms.     In  the  mean  time.  Mrs. 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND.  203 

Veneering  had  dived  into  the  same  waters  for  a 
wealthy  Ship  Broker,  and  had  brought  him  up,  safe 
and  sound,  by  the  hair.  Then  Mrs.  Veneering  had  to 
relate,  to  a  larger  circle,  how  she  had  been  to  see  the 
girl,  and  how  she  was  really  pretty,  and  (considering 
her  station)  presentable.  And  this  she  did  with  such 
a  successful  display  of  her  eight  aquiline  fingers,  and 
their  encircling  jewels,  that  she  happily  laid  hold  of 
a  drifting  General  Officer,  his  wife  and  daughter,  and 
not  only  restored  their  animation,  which  had  become 
suspended,  but  made  them  lively  friends  within  an 
hour. 

Although  Mr.  Podsnap  would  in  a  general  way 
have  highly  disapproved  of  Bodies  in  rivers  as  ineli- 
gible topics  with  reference  to  the  cheek  of  the  young 
person,  he  had,  as  one  may  say,  a  share  in  this  affair 
which  made  him  a  part  proprietor.  As  its  returns 
were  immediate,  too,  in  the  way  of  restraining  the 
company  from  speechless  contemplation  of  the  wine- 
coolers,  it  paid,  and  he  was  satisfied. 

And  now  the  haunch  of  mutton  vapor-bath  having 
received  a  gamey  infusion,  and  a  few  last  touches  of 
sweets  and  coffee,  was  quite  ready,  and  the  bathers 
came  ;  but  not  before  the  discreet  automaton  had  got 
behind  the  bars  of  the  piano  music-desk,  and  there 
presented  the  appearance  of  a  captive  languishing  in 
a  rosewood  jail.  And  who  now  so  pleasant  or  so  well 
assorted  as  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Alfred  Lammle,  he  all  spar- 
kle, she  all  gracious  contentment,  both  at  occasional 
intervals  exchanging  looks  like  partners  at  cards  who 
played  a  game  against  All  England. 

There  was  not  much  youth  among  the  bathers,  but 


204  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

there  was  no  youth  (the  young  person  always  except- 
ed) in  the  articles  of  Podsnappery.  Bald  bathers 
folded  their  arms  and  talked  to  Mr.  Podsnap  on  the 
hearth-rug ;  sleek-whiskered  bathers,  with  hats  in 
their  hands,  lunged  at  Mrs.  Podsnap  and  retreated  ; 
prowling  bathers  went  about  looking  into  ornamental 
boxes  and  bowls  as  if  they  had  suspicions  of  larceny 
on  the  part  of  the  Podsnaps,  and  expected  to  find 
something  they  had  lost  at  the  bottom  ;  bathers  of  the 
gentler  sex  sat  silently  comparing  ivory  shoulders. 
All  this  time  and  always,  poor  little  Miss  Podsnap,  whose 
tiny  efforts  (if  she  had  made  any)  were  swallowed  up  in 
the  magnificence  of  her  mother's  rocking,  kept  herself  as 
much  out  of  sight  and  mind  as  she  could,  and  appeared 
to  be  counting  on  many  dismal  returns  of  the  day.  It 
was  somehow  understood,  as  a  secret  article  in  the  state 
proprieties  of  Podsnappery,  that  nothing  must  be  said 
about  the  day.  Consequently  this  young  damsel's  nativity 
was  hushed  up  and  looked  over,  as  if  it  were  agreed  on 
all  hands  that  it  would  have  been  better  that  she  had 
never  been  born. 

The  Lammles  were  so  fond  of  the  dear  Veneerings  that 
they  could  not  for  some  time  detach  themselves  from  those 
excellent  friends  ;  but  at  length,  either  a  very  open  smile 
on  Mr.  Lammle's  part,  or  a  very  secret  elevation  of  one 
of  his  gingerous  eyebrows — certainly  the  one  or  the  other 
— seemed  to  say  to  Mrs.  Lammle,  "  Why  don't  you  play?" 
And  so,  looking  about  her,  she  saw  Miss  Podsnap,  and 
seeming  to  say  responsively,  "  That  card  ?"  and  to  be 
answered,   "  Yes,"  went  and  sat  beside  Miss   Podsnap. 

Mrs.  Lammle  was  overjoyed  to  escape  into  a  corner  for 
a  little  quiet  talk. 


OTJR   MUTUAL    FRIEND.  205 

It  promised  to  be  a  very  quiet  talk,  for  Miss  Podsnap 
replied  in  a  flutter,  "  Oh  !  Indeed,  it's  very  kind  of  you, 
but  I  am  afraid  I  donH  talk." 

"  Let  us  make  a  beginning,"  said  the  insinuating  Mrs. 
Lammle,  with  her  best  smile. 

"  Oh  !  I  am  afraid  you'll  find  me  very  dull.  But  Ma 
talks  !» 

That  was  plainly  to  be  seen,  for  Ma  was  talking  then 
at  her  usual  canter,  with  arched  head  and  mane,  opened 
eyes  and  nostrils. 

"  Fond  of  reading  perhaps  ?" 

11  Yes.  At  least  I — don't  mind  that  so  much,"  return- 
ed Miss  Podsnap. 

II  M — m — m — m — music." 

So  insinuating  was  Mrs.  Lammle  that  she  got  half  a 
dozen  ms  into  the  word  before  she  got  it  out. 

"  I  haven't  nerve  to  play  even  if  I  could.     Ma  plays." 

(At  exactly  the  same  canter,  and  with  a  certain  flour- 
ishing appearance  of  doing  something,  Ma  did,  in  fact,  oc- 
casionally take  a  rock  upon  the  instrument.) 

"  Of  course  you  like  dancing  ?" 

"  Oh  no,  I  don't,"  said  Miss  Podsnap. 

"  No  ?  With  your  youth  and  attractions  ?  Truly, 
my  dear,  you  surprise  me  !" 

II I  can't  say,"  observed  Miss  Podsnap,  after  hesitating 
considerably,  and  stealing  several  timid  looks  at  Mrs. 
Lammle's  carefully  arranged  face,  "  how  I  might  have 
liked  it  if  I  had  been  a — you  won't  mention  it,  will  you  ?" 

"  My  dear  !  Never  !" 

"  No,  I  am  sure  you  won't.  I  can't  say  then  how  I 
should  have  liked  it,  if  I  had  been  a  chimney-sweep  on 
May-day." 


206  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

"  Gracious  !"  was  the  exclamation  which  amazement 
elicited  from  Mrs.  Lammle. 

"  There  !  I  knew  you'd  wonder.  But  you  won't  men- 
tion it,  will  you  ?" 

11  Upon  my  word,  my  love,"  said  Mrs.  Lammle,  "  you 
make  me  ten  times  more  desirous,  now  I  talk  to  you,  to 
know  you  well  than  I  was  when  I  sat  over  yonder  look 
ing  at  you.  How  I  wish  we  could  be  real  friends  !  Try 
me  as  a  real  friend.  Come  !  Don't  fancy  me  a  frumpy 
old  married  woman,  my  dear  ;  I  was  married  but  the  oth- 
er day,  you  know  ;  I  am  dressed  as  a  bride  now,  you  see. 
About  the  chimney-sweeps  ?" 

"  Hush  !  Ma'll  hear." 

"  She  can't  hear  from  where  she  sits." 

"  Don't  you  be  too  sure  of  that,"  said  Miss  Podsnap,  in 
a  lower  voice.  "Well,  what  I  mean  is,  that  they  seem 
to  enjoy  it." 

"  And  that  perhaps  you  would  have  enjoyed  it  if  you 
had  been  one  of  them  ?" 

Miss  Podsnap  nodded  significantly. 

"  Then  you  don't  enjoy  it  now  ?" 

"  How  is  it  possible  ?"  said  Miss  Podsnap.  "  Oh  it  is 
such  a  dreadful  thing  !  If  I  was  wicked  enough — and 
strong  enough — to  kill  any  body,  it  should  be  my  part- 
ner." 

This  was  such  an  entirely  new  view  of  the  Terpsicho- 
rean  art  as  socially  practiced,  that  Mrs.  Lammle  looked 
at  her  young  friend  in  some  astonishment.  Her  young 
friend  sat  nervously  twiddling  her  fingers  in  a  pinioned  at- 
titude, as  if  she  were  trying  to  hide  her  elbows.  But  this 
latter  Utopian  object  (in  short  sleeves)  always  appeared 
to  be  the  great  inoffensive  aim  of  her  existence. 


OUR  MUTUAL   FRIEND.  207 

"  It  sounds  horrid,  don't  it  ?"  said  Miss  Podsnap,  with 
a  penitential  face. 

Mrs.  Lammle,  not  very  well  knowing  what  to  answer 
resolved  herself  into  a  look  of  smiling  encourage 
ment. 

"  But  it  is,  and  it  always  has  been,"  pursued  Miss  Pod- 
snap,  "  such  a  trial  to  me  !  I  so  dread  being  awful. 
And  it  is  so  awful  !  No  one  knows  what  I  suffered  at 
Madame  Sauteuse's,  where  I  learned  to  dance  and  make 
presentation-courtesies,  and  other  dreadful  things — or  at 
least  where  they  tried  to  teach  me.     Ma  can  do  it." 

"  At  any  rate,  my  love,"  said  Mrs.  Lammle,  soothingly, 
"  that's  over." 

"  Yes,  it's  over,"  returned  Miss  Podsnap,  "  but  there's 
nothing  gained  by  that.  It's  worse  here  than  at  Madame 
Sauteuse's.  Ma  was  there,  and  Ma's  here  ;  but  Pa  was'nt 
there,  and  company  wasn't  there,  and  there  were  not  real 
partners  there.  Oh  there's  Ma  speaking  to  the  man  at 
the  piano  !  Oh  there's  Ma  going  up  to  somebody  I  Oh 
I  know  she's  going  to  bring  him  to  me  !  Oh  please  don't, 
please  don't,  please  don't  !  Oh  keep  away,  keep  away, 
keep  away  !"  These  pious  ejaculations  Miss  Podsnap  ut- 
tered with  her  eyes  closed,  and  her  head  leaning  back 
against  the  wall. 

But  the  Ogre  advanced  under  the  pilotage  of  Ma,  and 
Ma  said,  "  Georgiana,  Mr.  Grompus,"  and  the  Ogre  clutch- 
ed his  victim  and  bore  her  off  to  his  castle  in  the  top  cou 
pie.  Then  the  discreet  automaton  who  had  surveyed  hia 
ground,  played  a  blossomless  tuneless  "  set,"  and  sixteen 
disciples  of  Podsnappery  went  through  the  figures  of — 1, 
Getting  up  at  eight  and  shaving  close  at  a  quarter  past 
—2,  Breakfasting  at  nine— 3,  Going  to  the  City  at  ten — 


208  OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 

4,  Coining  home  at  half  past  five — 5,  Dining  at  seven,  and 
the  grand  chain. 

While  these  solemnities  were  in  progress,  Mr.  Alfred 
Lammle  (most  loving  of  husbands)  approached  the  chair 
of  Mrs.  Alfred  Lammle  (most  loving  of  wives),  and  bend 
ing  over  the  back  of  it,  trifled  for  some  few  seconds  with 
Mrs.  Lammle's  bracelet.  Slightly  in  contrast  with  this 
brief  airy  toying,  one  might  have  noticed  a  certain  dark 
attention  in  Mrs.  Lammle's  face  as  she  said  some  word? 
with  her  eyes  on  Mr.  Lammle's  waistcoat,  and  seemed  in 
return  to  receive  some  lesson.  But  it  was  all  done  as  a 
breath  passes  from  a  mirror. 

And  now,  the  grand  chain  riveted  to  the  last  link,  the 
discreet  automaton  ceased,  and  the  sixteen,  two  and  two, 
took  a  walk  among  the  furniture.  And  herein  the  un- 
consciousness of  the  Ogre  Grompus  was  pleasantly  con- 
spicuous ;  for  that  complacent  monster,  believing  that  he 
was  giving  Miss  Podsnap  a  treat,  prolonged  to  the  utmost 
stretch  of  possibility  a  peripatetic  account  of  an  archery 
meeting  ;  while  his  victim,  heading  the  procession  of  six- 
teen as  it  slowly  circled  about,  like  a  revolving  funeral, 
never  raised  her  eyes  except  once  to  steal  a  glance  at  Mrs. 
Lammle,  expressive  of  intense  despair. 

At  length  the  procession  was  dissolved  by  the  violent 
arrival  of  a  nutmeg,  before  which  the  drawiug-room  door 
bounced  open  as  if  it  were  a  cannon-ball  ;  and  while  that 
fragrant  article,  dispersed  through  several  glasses  of  col- 
jred  warm  water,  was  going  the  round  of  society,  Miss 
Podsnap  returned  to  her  seat  by  her  new  friend. 

"  Oh  my  goodness,"  said  Miss  Podsnap.  "  That's  over  ! 
I  hope  you  didn't  look  at  me." 

"  My  dear,  why  not  ?" 


OUR  MUTUAL   FRIEND.  209 

"  Oh  I  know  all  about  myself,"  said  Miss  Podsnap. 

"  I'll  tell  you  something  /know  about  you,  my  dear/ 
returned  Mrs.  Lammle,  in  her  winning  way,  "and  that  is, 
you  are  most  unnecessarily  shy." 

"  Ma  ain't,"  said  Miss  Podsnap.  "  — I  detest  you  ! 
Go  along  !"  This  shot  was  leveled  under  her  breath  at 
the  gallant  Grompus  for  bestowing  an  insinuating  smile 
upon  her  in  passing. 

M  Pardon  me  if  I  scarcely  see,  my  dear  Miss  Podsnap," 
Mrs.  Lammle  was  beginning  when  the  young  lady  inter- 


"  If  we  are  going  to  be  real  friends  (and  I  suppose  we 
are,  for  you  are  the  only  person  who  ever  proposed  it,) 
don't  let  us  be  awful.  It's  awful  enough  to  be  Miss  Pod- 
snap without  being  called  so.     Call  me  Georgiana." 

11  Dearest  Georgiana,"  Mrs.  Lammle  began  again. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Miss  Podsnap. 

"  Dearest  Georgiana,  pardon  me  if  I  scarcely  see,  my 
love,  why  your  mamma's  not  being  shy  is  a  reason  why 
you  should  be." 

*  Don't  you  really  see  that  ?"  asked  Miss  Podsnap, 
plucking  at  her  fingers  in  a  troubled  manner,  and  furtive- 
ly casting  her  eyes  now  on  Mrs.  Lammle,  now  on  the 
ground.     "  Then  perhaps  it  isn't  ?" 

"  My  dearest  Georgiana,  you  defer  much  too  readily  to 
my  poor  opinion.  Indeed  it  is  not  even  an  opinion,  darl- 
ing, for  it  is  only  a  confession  of  my  dullness." 

"  Oh  you  are  not  dull,"  returned  Miss  Podsnap.  "  / 
am  dull,  but  you  couldn't  have  made  me  talk  if  you 
were." 

Some  little  touch  of  conscience  answering  this  percep- 
tion of  her  having  gained  a  purpose,  called  bloom  enough 


210  OUR   MUTUAL    FRIEND. 

into  Mrs.  Lamnile's  face  to  make  it  look  brighter  as  she 
sat  smiling  her  best  smile  on  her  dear  Georgiana,  and 
shaking  her  head  with  an  affectionate  playfulness.  Not 
that  it  meant  any  thing,  but  that  Georgiana  seemed  to 
like  it. 

"  What  I  mean  is,'7  pursued  Georgiana,  "  that  Ma  be- 
ing so  endowed  with  awfulness,  and  Pa  being  so  endowed 
with  awfulness,  and  there  being  so  much  awfulness  every 
where — I  mean,  at  least,  every  where  where  I  am — per- 
haps it  makes  me  who  am  so  deficient  in  awfulness,  and 
frightened  at  it — I  say  it  very  badly — I  don't  know 
whether  you  can  understand  what  I  mean  ?" 

"  Perfectly,  dearest  Georgiana  !"  Mrs.  Lammle  was 
proceeding  with  every  reassuring  wile,  when  the  head  of 
that  young  lady  suddenly  went  back  against  the  wall 
again  and  her  eyes  closed. 

"  Oh  there's  Ma  being  awful  with  somebody  with  a 
glass  in  his  eye  !  Oh  I  know  she's  going  to  bring  him 
here  !  Oh  don't  bring  him,  don't  bring  him  !  Oh  he'll 
be  my  partner  with  his  glass  in  his  eye  !  Oh  what  shall 
I  do  1"  This  time  Georgiana  accompanied  her  ejacula- 
tions with  taps  of  her  feet  upon  the  floor,  and  was  alto- 
gether in  quite  a  desperate  condition.  But  there  was  no 
escape  from  the  majestic  Mrs.  Podsnap's  production  of  an 
ambliug  stranger,  with  one  eye  screwed  up  into  extinction 
and  the  other  framed  and  glazed,  who,  having  looked  down 
out  of  that  organ,  as  if  he  descried  Miss  Podsnap  at  the 
bottom  of  some  perpendicular  shaft,  brought  her  to  the 
surface,  and  ambled  off  with  her.  And  then  the  captive 
at  the  piano  played  another  "set,"  expressive  of  his  mourn- 
ful aspirations  after  freedom,  and  other  sixteen  went 
through  the  former  melancholy  motions,  and  the  ambler 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND.  211 

took  Miss  Podsnap  for  a  furniture  walk,  as  if  he  had  struck 
out  an  entirely  original  conception. 

In  the  mean  time  a  stray  personage  of  a  meek  demean- 
or, who  had  wandered  to  the  hearth-rug  and  got  among 
the  heads  of  tribes  assembled  there  in  conference  with 
Mr.  Podsnap,  eliminated  Mr.  Podsnap's  flush  and  flourish 
by  a  highly  impolite  remark  ;  no  less  than  a  reference  to 
the  circumstance  that  some  half-dozen  people  had  lately 
died  in  the  streets,  of  starvation.  It  was  clearly  ill-timed 
after  dinner.  It  was  not  adapted  to  the  cheek  of  the 
young  person.     It  was  not  in  good  taste. 

"  I  don't  believe  it,"  said  Mr.  Podsnap,  putting  it  be- 
hind him. 

The  meek  man  was  afraid  we  must  take  it  as  proved, 
because  there  were  the  Inquests  and  the  Registrar's 
returns. 

"  Then  it  was  their  own  fault,"  said  Mr.  Podsnap. 

Yeneering  and  other  elders  of  tribes  commended  this 
way  out  of  it.     At  once  a  short  cut  and  a  broad  road. 

The  man  of  meek  demeanor  intimated  that  truly  it 
would  seem  from  the  facts,  as  if  starvation  had  been 
forced  upon  the  culprits  in  question — as  if,  in  their 
wretched  manner,  they  had  made  their  weak  protests 
against  it — as  if  they  would  have  taken  the  liberty  of 
staving  it  off  if  they  could — as  if  they  would  rather  not 
have  been  starved  upon  the  whole,  if  perfectly  agreeable 
to  all  parties. 

11  There  is  not,"  said  Mr.  Podsnap,  flushing  angrily, 
"  there  is  not  a  country  in  the  world,  Sir,  where  so  noble 
a  provision  is  made  for  the  poor  as  in  this  country." 

The  meek  man  was  quite  willing  to  concede  that,  but 
perhaps   it  rendered   the  matter  even  worse,  as  show- 


212  OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 

ing  that  there  must  be  something  appallingly  wrong 
somewhere. 

"  Where  ?"  said  Mr.  Podsnap. 

The  meek  man  hinted  Wouldn't  it  be  well  to  try,  very 
seriously,  to  find  out  where  ? 

"  Ah  !"  said  Mr.  Podsnap.  "  Easy  to  say  some- 
where ;  not  so  easy  to  say  where  !  But  I  see  what  you 
are  driving  at.  I  knew  it  from  the  first.  Centraliza- 
tion.    No.     Never  with  my  consent.     Not  English." 

An  approving  murmur  arose  from  the  heads  of  tribes  ; 
as  saying,  "  There  you  have  him  !     Hold  him  I" 

He  was  not  aware  (the  meek  man  submitted  of  him- 
self) that  he  was  driving  at  any  ization.  He  had  no  fa- 
vorite ization  that  he  knew  of.  But  he  certainly  was 
more  staggered  by  these  terrible  occurrences  than  he 
was  by  names,  of  howsoever  so  many  syllables.  Might 
he  ask,  "  was  dying  of  destitution  and  neglect  necessarily 
English  ?" 

"  You  know  what  the  population  of  London  is,  I  sup- 
pose," said  Mr.  Podsnap. 

The  meek  man  supposed  he  did,  but  supposed  that  had 
absolutely  nothing  to  do  with  it,  if  its  laws  were  well  ad- 
ministered, m 

"  And  you  know  ;  at  least  I  hope  you  know  ;"  said 
Mr.  Podsnap,  with  severity,  "  that  Providence  has  de- 
clared that  you  shall  have  the  poor  always  with  you  ?" 

The  meek  man  also  hoped  he  knew  that. 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  it,"  said  Mr.  Podsnap,  with  a  por- 
tentous air.  "  I  am  glad  to  hear  it.  It  will  render  you 
cautious  how  you  fly  in  the  face  of  Providence  " 

In  reference  to  that  absurd  and  irreverent  conventional 
phrase,  the  meek  man  said,  for  which  Mr.  Podsnap  was 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND.  213 

not  responsible,  lie  the  meek  man  had  no  fear  of  doing 
any  thing  so  impossible  ;  but — 

But  Mr.  Podsnap  felt  that  the  time  had  come  for  flush- 
ing and  flourishing  this  meek  man  down  for  good.  So 
he  said  : 

"  I  must  decline  to  pursue  this  painful  discussion.  It  b 
not  pleasant  to  my  feelings  :  it  is  repugnant  to  my  feel 
ings.  I  have  said  that  I  do  not  admit  these  things.  ] 
have  also  said  that  if  they  do  occur  (not  that  I  admit  it) 
the  fault  lies  with  the  sufferers  themselves.  It  is  not  foi 
we" — Mr.  Podsnap  pointed  "  me"  forcibly,  as  adding  by 
implication  though  it  may  be  all  very  well  for  you — "  il 
is  not  for  me  to  impugn  the  workings  of  Providence.  ] 
know  better  than  that,  I  trust,  and  I  have  mentioned 
what  the  intentions  of  Providence  are.  Besides,"  said 
Mr.  Podsnap,  flushing  high  up  among  his  hair-brushes, 
with  a  strong  consciousness  of  personal  affront,  "the  sub 
ject  is  a  very  disagreeable  one,  I  will  go  so  far  as  to  say 
it  is  an  odious  one.  It  is  not  one  to  be  introduced  among 
our  wives  and  young  persons,  and  I — "  He  finished  with 
that  flourish  of  his  arm  which  added  more  expressively 
than  any  words,  And  I  remove  it  from  the  face  of  the 
earth. 

Simultaneously  with  this  quenching  of  the  meek  man's 
ineffectual  fire,  Georgiana  having  left  the  ambler  up  a 
lane  of  sofa,  in  a  No  Thoroughfare  of  back  drawing- 
room,  to  find  his  own  way  out,  came  back  to  Mrs.  Lan  - 
mle.  And  who  should  be  with  Mrs.  Lammle  but  Mr. 
Lammle.     So  fond  of  her. 

"  Alfred,  my  love,  here  is  my  friend.  Georgiana,  dear- 
est girl,  you  must  like  my  husband  next  to  me." 

Mr.  Lammle  was  proud  to  be  so  soon  distinguished  by 


214  OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 

this  special  commendation  to  Miss  Podsnap's  favor.  But 
if  Mr.  Lammle  were  prone  to  be  jealous  of  his  dear  So- 
phronia's  friendships,  he  would  be  jealous  of  her  feeling 
toward  Miss  Podsnap. 

"  Say,  Georgiana,  darling,"  interposed  his  wife. 

"  Toward — shall  I  ? — Georgiana."  Mr.  Lammle  ut- 
tered the  name,  with  a  delicate  curve  of  his  right  hand, 
from  his  lips  outward.  "  For  never  have  I  known 
Sophronia  (who  is  not  apt  to  take  sudden  likings)  so  at- 
tracted and  so  captivated  as  she  is  by — shall  I  once  more  ? 
— Georgiana." 

The  object  of  this  homage  sat  uneasily  enough  in  re- 
ceipt of  it,  and  then  said,  turning  to  Mrs.  Lammle,  much 
embarrassed  : 

"  I  wonder  what  you  like  me  for  !  I  am  sure  I  can't 
think." 

"  Dearest  Georgiana,  for  yourself.  For  your  differ- 
ence from  all  around  you." 

"  Well  !  That  may  be.  For  I  think  I  like  you  for 
your  difference  from  all  around  me,"  said  Georgiana  with 
a  smile  of  relief. 

"  We  must  be  going  with  the  rest,"  observed  Mrs. 
Lammle,  rising  with  a  show  of  unwillingness,  amidst  a 
general  dispersal.  "  We  are  real  friends,  Georgiana,  dear  ?" 

"  Real." 

"  Good-night,  dear  girl  !" 

She  had  established  an  attraction  over  the  shrinking 
nature  upon  which  her  smiling  eyes  were  fixed,  for 
Georgiana  held  her  hand  while  she  answered  in  a  secret 
and  half-frightened  tone  : 

"  Don't  forget  me,  when  you  are  gone  away.  And 
Good-night  !" 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND.  215 

Charming  to  see  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lanimle  taking  leave  so 
gracefully,  and  going  down  the  stairs  so  lovingly  and 
sweetly.  Not  quite  so  charming  to  see  their  smiling  face? 
fall  and  brood  as  they  dropped  moodily  into  separate 
corners  of  their  little  carriage.  But  to  be  sure  that  was 
a  sight  behind  the  scenes,  which  nobody  saw,  and  which 
nobody  was  meant  to  see. 

Certain  big,  heavy  vehicles,  built  on  the  model  of  the 
Podsnap  plate,  took  away  the  heavy  articles  of  guest? 
weighing  ever  so  much  ;  and  the  less  valuable  articles  got 
away  after  their  various  manners  ;  and  the  Podsnap  plate 
was  put  to  bed.  As  Mr.  Podsnap  stood  with  his  back 
to  the  drawing-room  fire,  pulling  up  his  shirt-collar,  like  a 
veritable  cock  of  the  walk  literally  pluming  himself  in  the 
midst  of  his  possessions,  nothing  would  have  astonished 
him  more  than  an  intimation  that  Miss  Podsnap,  or  any 
other  young  person  properly  born  and  bred,  could  not  be 
exactly  put  away  like  the  plate,  brought  out  like  the 
plate,  polished  like  the  plate,  counted,  weighed,  and 
valued  like  the  plate.  That  such  a  young  person  could 
possibly  have  a  morbid  vacancy  in  the  heart  for  anything 
younger  than  the  plate,  or  less  monotonous  than  the 
plate  ;  or  that  such  a  young  person's  thoughts  could  try 
to  scale  the  region  bounded  on  the  north,  south,  east,  and 
west,  by  the  plate  ;  was  a  monstrous  imagination  which 
he  would  on  the  spot  have  flourished  into  space.  Thia 
perhaps  in  some  sort  arose  from  Mr.  Podsnap's  blushing 
young  person  being,  so  to  speak,  all  cheek  ;  whereas 
there  is  a  possibility  that  there  may  be  young  person's  of  a 
rather  more  complex  organization. 

If  Mr.  Podsnap,  pulling  up  his  shirt-collar,  could  only 
have  heard  himself  called    "  that  fellow"  in  a  certain 


216  OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 

short  dialogue,  which  passed  between  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lam- 
mle  in  their  opposite  corners  of  their  little  carriage,  roll- 
ing home  ! 

"  Sophronia,  are  you  awake  ?" 

"  Am  I  likely  to  be  asleep,  Sir  ?" 

"  Very  likely,  I  should  think,  after  that  fellow's  com- 
pany.    Attend  to  what  I  am  going  to  say." 

"  I  have  attended  to  what  you  have  already  said, 
have  I  not  ?  What  else  have  I  been  doing  all  to- 
uight  V 

"Attend,  I  tell  you"  (in  a  raised  voice),  "to  what  I 
am  going  to  say.  Keep  close  to  that  idiot  girl.  Keep 
her  under  your  thumb.  You  have  her  fast,  and  you  are 
not  to  let  her  go.     Do  you  hear  ?" 

"  I  hear  you." 

11 1  foresee  there  is  money  to  be  made  out  of  this,  be- 
sides taking  that  fellow  down  a  peg.  We  owe  each  other 
money,  you  know." 

Mrs.  Lammle  winced  a  little  at  the  reminder,  but  only 
enough  to  shake  her  scents  and  essences  anew  into  the 
atmosphere?  of  the  little  carriage,  as  she  settled  herself 
afresh  in  her  own  dark  corner. 


OUR  MUTUAL   FRIEND.  217 


CHAPTER  XII. 


Mr.  Mortimer  Lightwood  and  Mr.  Eugene  Wrayburn 
took  a  coffee-house  dinner  together  in  Mr.  Lightwood's 
office.  They  had  newly  agreed  to  set  up  a  joint  estab- 
lishment together.  They  had  taken  a  bachelor  cottage 
near  Hampton,  on  the  brink  of  the  Thames,  with  a  lawn, 
and  a  boat-house,  and  all  things  fitting,  and  were  to  float 
with  the  stream  through  the  summer  and  the  Long  Va- 
cation. 

It  was  not  summer  yet,-  but  spring  ;  and  it  was  not 
gentle  spring  ethereally  mild,  as  in  Thomson's  Seasons, 
but  nipping  spring  with  an  easterly  wind,  as  in  Johnson's, 
Jackson's,  Dickson's,  Smith's,  and  Jones's  Seasons.  The 
grating  wind  sawed  rather  than  blew  ;  and  as  it  sawed, 
the  saw-dust  whirled  about  the  saw-pit.  Every  street  was 
a  saw-pit,  and  there  were  no  top-sawyers  ;  every  passen- 
ger was  an  under-sawyer,  with  the  saw-dust  blinding  him 
and  choking  him. 

That  mysterious  paper  currency  which  circulates  in  Lon- 
don when  the  wind  blows,  gyrated  here  and  there  and 
every  where.  Whence  can  it  come,  whither  can  it  go  ? 
It  hangs  on  every  bush,  flutters  in  every  tree,  is  caught 
flying  by  the  electric  wires,  haunts  every  inclosure,  drinks 
at  every  pump,  cowers  at  every  grating,  shudders  upon 

11 


218  OTJK  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 

every  plot  of  grass,  seeks  rest  in  Tain  behind  the  legions 
of  iron  rails.  In  Paris,  where  nothing  is  wasted,  costly 
and  luxurious  city  though  it  be,  but  where  wonderful  hu- 
man ants  creep  out  of  holes  and  pick  up  every  scrap, 
there  is  no  such  thing.  There,  it  blows  nothing  but  dust. 
There,  sharp  eyes  and  sharp  stomachs  reap  even  the  east 
wind,  and  get  something  out  of  it. 

The  wind  sawed,  and  the  saw-dust  whirled.  The  shrubs 
wrung  their  many  hands,  bemoaning  that  they  had  been 
over-persuaded  by  the  sun  to  bud  ;  the  young  leaves  pined  ; 
the  sparrows  repented  of  their  early  marriages,  like  men 
and  women  ;  the  colors  of  the  rainbow  were  discernible, 
not  in  floral  spring,  but  in  the  faces  of  the  people  whom 
it  nibbled  and  pinched.  And  ever  the  wind  sawed,  and 
the  saw-dust  whirled. 

When  the  spring  evenings  are  too  long  and  light  to 
shut  out,  and  such  weather  is  rife,  the  city  which  Mr. 
Podsnap  so  explanatorily  called  London,  Londres,  Lon- 
don, is  at  its  worst.  Such  a  black  shrill  city,  combining 
the  qualities  of  a  smoky  house  and  a  scolding  wife  ;  such 
a  gritty  city  ;  such  a  hopeless  city,  with  no  rent  in  the 
leaden  canopy  of  its  sky  ;  such  a  beleaguered  city,  invest- 
ed by  the  great  Marsh  Forces  of  Essex  and  Kent.  So 
the  two  old  school-fellows  felt  it  to  be,  as,  their  dinner 
done,  they  turned  toward  the  fire  to  smoke.  Young 
Blight  was  gone,  the  coffee-house  waiter  was  gone,  the 
plates  and  dishes  were  gone,  the  wine  was  going — but  not 
in  the  same  direction. 

"  The  wind  sounds  up  here,"  quoth  Eugene,  stirring 
the  fire,  "  as  if  we  were  keeping  a  light-house.  I  wish  we 
were." 

"  Don't  you  think  it  would  bore  us  ?"  Lightwood  asked. 


OUR   MUTUAL  FRIEND.  219 

"  Not  more  than  any  other  place.  And  there  would 
be  no  Circuit  to  go.  But  that's  a  selfish  consideration, 
personal  to  me." 

"  And  no  clients  to  come,"  added  Lightwood.  "  Not 
that  that's  a  selfish  consideration  at  all  personal  to  me" 

"  If  we  were  on  an  isolated  rock  in  a  stormy  sea,"  said 
Eugene,  smoking  with  his  eyes  on  the  fire,  "Lady  Tip- 
pins  couldn't  put  off  to  visit  us,  or,  better  still,  might  put 
off  and  get  swamped.  People  couldn't  ask  one  to  wed- 
ding breakfasts.  There  would  be  no  Precedents  to  ham- 
mer at,  except  the  plain-sailing  Precedent  of  keeping  the 
light  up.     It  would  be  exciting  to  look  out  for  wrecks." 

"  But  otherwise,"  suggested  Lightwood,  "  there  might 
be  a  degree  of  sameness  in  the  life." 

"  I  have  thought  of  that  also,"  said  Eugene,  as  if  he 
really  had  been  considering  the  subject  in  its  various  bear- 
ings with  an  eye  to  the  business  ;  "  but  it  would  be  a  de- 
fined and  limited  monotony.  It  would  not  extend  be- 
yond two  people.  Now,  it's  a  question  with  me,  Morti- 
mer, whether  a  monotony  defined  with  that  precision  and 
limited  to  that  extent  might  not  be  more  endurable  than 
the  unlimited  monotony  of  one's  fellow-creatures." 

As  Lightwood  laughed  and  passed  the  wine  he  remark- 
ed, "  We  shall  have  an  opportunity,  in  our  boating  sum- 
mer, of  trying  the  question." 

11  An  imperfect  one,"  Eugene  acquiesced,  with  a  sigh, 
11  but  so  we  shall.  I  hope  we  may  not  prove  too  much 
for  one  another." 

"  Now,  regarding  your  respected  father,"  said  Light- 
wood,  bringing  him  to  a  subject  they  had  expressly  ap- 
pointed to  discuss  :  always  the  most  slippery  eel  of  eels  of 
subjects  to  lay  hold  of. 


£20  OUR  MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

"  Yes,  regarding  my  respected  father,"  assented  Eugene, 
settling  himself  in  his  arm-chair.  "  I  would  rather  have 
approached  my  respected  father  by  caudle-light,  as  a  theme 
requiring  a  little  artificial  brilliancy  ;  but  we  will  take  him 
by  twilight,  enlivened  with  a  glow  of  Wallsend." 

He  stirred  the  fire  again  as  he  spoke,  and  having  made 
it  blaze,  resumed  : 

"  My  respected  father  has  found,  down  in  the  parental 
neighborhood,  a  wife  for  his  not-generally-respected  son." 

11  With  some  money,  of  course  ?" 

"  With  some  money,  of  course,  or  he  would  not  have 
found  her.  My  respected  father — let  me  shorten  the  du- 
tiful tautology  by  substituting  in  future  M.  R.  F.,  which 
sounds  military,  and  rather  like  the  Duke  of  Wellington." 

"  What  an  absurd  fellow  you  are,  Eugene  !" 

"  Not  at  all,  I  assure  you.  M.  R.  F.  having  always  in 
the  clearest  manner  provided  (as  he  calls  it)  for  his  child- 
ren by  prearranging  from  the  hour  of  the  birth  of  each, 
and  sometimes  from  ah  earlier  period,  what  the  devoted 
little  victim's  calling  and  course  in  life  should  be,  M.  R. 
F.  prearranged  for  myself  that  I  was  to  be  the  barrister 
I  am  (with  the  slight  addition  of  an  enormous  practice, 
which  has  not  accrued,)  and  also  the  married  man  I  am 
not." 

11  The  first  you  have  often  told  me." 

"  The  first  I  have  often  told  you.  Considering  myself 
sufficiently  incongruous  on  my  legal  eminence,  I  have  un- 
til now  suppressed  my  domestic  destiny.  You  know  M. 
R.  F.,  but  not  as  well  as  I  do.  If  you  knew  him  as  well 
as  I  do  he  would  amuse  you." 

"  Filially  spoken,  Eugene  1" 

"  Perfectly  so,  believe  me  ;  and  with  every  sentiment 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND.  221 

of  affectionate  deference  toward  M.  R.  F.  But  if  he 
amuses  me,  I  can't  help  it.  When  my  eldest  brother  was 
born,  of  course  the  rest  of  us  knew  (I  mean  the  rest  of  us 
would  have  known,  if  we  had  been  in  existence)  that  he 
was  heir  to  the  Family  Embarrassments — we  call  it  before 
company  the  Family  Estate.  But  when  my  second  bro- 
ther was  going  to  be  born  by-and-by,  '  this/  says  M.  R. 
F.,  '  is  a  little  pillar  of  the  church.'  Was  born,  and  be- 
came a  pillar  of  the  church  j  a  very  shaky  one.  My  third 
brother  appeared,  considerably  in  advance  of  his  engage- 
ment to  my  mother  ;  but  M.  R.  F.,  not  at  all  put  out  by 
surprise,  instantly  declared  him  a  Circumnavigator.  Was 
pitchforked  into  the  Navy,  but  has  not  circumnavigated. 
I  announced  myself,  and  was  disposed  of  with  the  highly 
satisfactory  results  embodied  before  you.  When  my 
younger  brother  was  half  an  hour  old,  it  was  settled  by 
M.  R.  F.  that  he  should  have  a  mechanical  genius.  And 
so  on.     Therefore  I  say  that  M.  R.  F.  amuses  me." 

"  Touching  the  lady,  Eugene." 

11  There  M.  R.  F.  ceases  to  be  amusing,  because  my  in- 
tentions are  opposed  to  touching  the  lady." 

"  Do  you  know  her  ?" 

"Not  in  the  least." 

"  Hadn't  you  better  see  her  ?" 

11  My  dear  Mortimer,  you  have  studied  my  character. 
Could  I  possibly  go  down  there,  labeled  '  Eligible.  On 
view,'  and  meet  the  lady,  similarly  labeled  ?  Any  thing 
to  carry  out  M.  R.  F.'s  arrangements,  I  am  sure,  with 
the  greatest  pleasure — except  matrimony.  Could  I  pos- 
sibly support  it  ?  I,  so  soon  bored,  so  constantly,  so  fa* 
tally  ?" 

"  But  you  are  not  a  consistent  fellow,  Eugene." 


222  OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 

''In  susceptibility  to  boredom,"  returned  that  worthy, 
"  I  assure  you  I  am  the  most  consistent  of  mankind." 

"  Why,  it  was  but  now  that  you  were  dwelling  on  the 
advantages  of  a  monotony- of  two." 

"  In  a  light-house.  Do  me  the  justice  to  remember  the 
condition.     In  a  light-house." 

Mortimer  laughed  again,  and  Eugene,  having  laughed 
too  for  the  first  time,  as  if  he  found  himself  on  reflection 
rather  entertaining,  relapsed  into  his  usual  gloom,  and 
drowsily  said,  as  he  enjoyed  his  cigar,  "  No,  there  is  no 
help  for  it  ;  one  of  the  prophetic  deliveries  of  M.  R.  B\ 
must  forever  remain  unfulfilled.  With  every  disposition 
to  oblige  him,  he  must  submit  to  a  failure." 

It  had  grown  darker  as  they  talked,  and  the  wind  was 
sawing  and  the  saw-dust  was  whirling  outside  paler  win- 
dows. The  underlying  church-yard  was  already  settling 
into  deep  dim  shade,  and  the  shade  was  creeping  up  to  the 
house-tops  among  which  they  sat.  "  As  if,"  said  Eugene, 
"  as  if  the  church-yard  ghosts  were  rising." 

He  had  walked  to  the  window  with  his  cigar  in  his 
mouth,  to  exalt  its  flavor  by  comparing  the  fireside  with 
the  outside,  when  he  stopped  midway  on  his  return  to  his 
arm-chair,  and  said  : 

11  Apparently  one  of  the  ghosts  has  lost  its  way,  and 
dropped  in  to  be  directed.     Look  at  this  phantom  !" 

Lightwood,  whose  back  was  toward  the  door,  turned 
his  head,  and  there,  in  the  darkness  of  the  entry,  stood  a 
something  in  the  likeness  of  a  man  :  to  whom  he  address- 
ed the  not  irrelevant  inquiry,  "  Who  the  devil  are  you  ?" 

"  I  ask  your  pardons,  Governors,"  replied  the  ghost,  in 
a  hoarse  double-barreled  whisper,  "but  might  either  on 
you  be  Lawyer  Lightwood  ?" 


OTJR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  223 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  not  knocking  at  the  door  ?* 
demanded  Mortimer. 

"  I  ask  your  pardons,  Governors,"  replied  the  ghost,  as 
before,  "  but  probable  you  was  not  aware  your  door  stood 
open." 

"  What  do  you  want  ?" 

Hereunto  the  ghost  again  hoarsely  replied,  in  its  dou- 
ble-barreled manner,  "  I  ask  your  pardons,  Governors, 
but  might  one  on  you  be  Lawyer  Lightwood  ?" 

"  One  of  us  is,"  said  the  owner  of  that  name. 

"  All  right,  Governors  Both,"  returned  the  ghost,  care- 
fully closing  the  room  door  ;  "'tickler  business." 

Mortimer  lighted  the  candles.  They  showed  the  visitor 
to  be  an  ill-looking  visitor  with  a  squinting  leer,  who,  as 
he  spoke,  fumbled  at  an  old  sodden  fur  cap,  formless  and 
mangy,  that  looked  like  a  furry  animal,  dog  or  cat,  puppy 
or  kitten,  drowned  and  decayiug. 

"  Now,"  said  Mortimer,  "  what  is  it  ?" 

"  Governors  Both,"  returned  the  man,  in  what  he 
meant  to  be  a  wheedling  tone,  "  which  on  you  might  be 
Lawyer  Lightwood  ?" 

"  I  am." 

"  Lawyer  Lightwood,"  ducking  at  him  with  a  servile 
air,  "  I  am  a  man  as  gets  my  living,  and  as  seeks  to  get 
my  living,  by  the  sweat  of  my  brow.  Not  to  risk  being 
done  out  of  the  sweat  of  my  brow,  by  any  chances,  I 
should  wisli  afore  going  further  to  be  sworn  in," 

"I  am  not  a  swearer  in  of  people,  man." 

The  visitor,  clearly  any  thing  but  reliant  on  this  assur- 
ance, doggedly  muttered,   "  Alfred  David." 

"  Is  that  your  name  ?"  asked  Lightwood. 

"  My  name  ?"  returned  the  man.  "  No  ;  I  want  to 
take  a  Alfred  David." 


224  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

(Which  Eugene,  smoking  and  contemplating  him,  inter 
preted  as  meaning  Affidavit.) 

"  I  tell  you,  my  good  fellow,"  said  Lightwood,  with 
his  indolent  laugh,  "that  I  have  nothing  to  do  with 
swearing." 

"  He  can  swear  at  you,"  Eugene  explained  ;  "  and  so 
can  I.     But  we  can't  do  more  for  you." 

Much  discomfited  by  this  information,  the  visitor  turned 
the  drowned  dog  or  cat,  puppy  or  kitten,  about  and  about 
and  looked  from  one  of  the  Governors  Both  to  the  other 
of  the  Governors  Both,  while  he  deeply  considered  within 
himself.     At  length  he  decided  : 

"  Then  I  must  be  took  down." 

"  Where  ?"  asked  Lightwood. 

"  Here,"  said  the  man.     "  In  pen  and  ink." 

11  First  let  us  know  what  your  business  is  about." 

"  It's  about,"  said  the  man,  taking  -a  step  forward, 
dropping  his  hoarse  voice,  and  shading  it  with  his  hand, 
"it's  about  from  five  to  ten  thousand  pounds  reward. 
That's  what  it's  about.  It's  about  murder.  That's  what 
it's  about." 

"  Come  nearer  the  table.  Sit  down.  Will  yon  have  a 
glass  of  wine  ?" 

11  Yes,  I  will,"  said  the  man  ;  "  and  I  don't  deceive 
you,  Governors." 

It  was  given  him.  Making  a  stiff  arm  to  the  elbow, 
he  poured  the  wine  into  his  mouth,  tilted  it  into  his  right 
check,  as  saying,  "  What  do  you  think  of  it  ?"  tilted  it 
into  his  left  cheek,  as  saying,  "  What  do  you  think  of  ii  ?" 
jerked  it  into  his  stomach,  as  saying,  "  What  do  you,  ti^^k 
of  it  ?"  To  conclude,  smacked  his  lips,  as  it  all  thre^  ***■ 
plied,  "  We  think  well  of  it." 

"  Will  you  have  another  ?" 


OUK   MUTUAL    FRIEND.  53l;5 

"Yes,  I  will,"  lie  repeated,  "and  I  don't  deceive 
you,  Governors."  And  also  repeated  the  other  pro- 
ceedings. 

"  Now,"  began  Lightwood,  "  what's  your  name  ?" 

"  Why,  there  you're  rather  fast,  Lawyer  Lightwood," 
he  replied,  in  a  remonstrant  manner.  Don't  you  see, 
Lawyer  Lightwood  ?  There  you're  a  little  bit  fast.  I'm 
going  to  earn  from  five  to  ten  thousand  pound  by  the 
sweat  of  my  brow  ;  and  as  a  poor  man  doing  justice  to 
the  sweat  of  my  brow,  is  it  likely  I  can  afford  to  part 
with  so  much  as  my  name  without  its  being  took  down?" 

Deferring  to  the  man's  sense  of  the  binding  powers  of 
pen  and  ink  and  paper,  Lightwood  nodded  acceptance  of 
Eugene's  nodded  proposal  to  take  those  spells  in  hand. 
Eugene  bringing  them  to  the  table,  sat  down  as  clerk,  or 
notary. 

"  Now,"  said  Lightwood,  "  what's  your  name  ?" 

But  further  precaution  was  still  due  to  the  sweat  of 
this  honest  fellow's  brow. 

"  I  should  wish,  Lawyer  Lightwood,"  he  stipulated, 
"to  have  that  T'other  Governor  as  my  witness  that 
what  I  said  I  said.  Consequent,  will  the  T'other  Gov- 
ernor be  so  good  as  chuck  me  his  name  and  where  he 
lives  ?" 

Eugene,  cigar  in  mouth  and  pen  in  hand,  tossed  him 
his  card.  After  spelling  it  out  slowly,  the  man  made  it 
into  a  little  roll,  and  tied  it  up  in  an  end  of  his  necker- 
chief still  more  slowly. 

"Now,"  said  Lightwood,  for  the  third  time,  "if  you 
have   quite    completed    your   various   preparations,    my 
friend,  and  have  fully  ascertained  that  your  spirits  are 
cool  and  not  in  any  way  hurried,  what's  your  name  ?" 
11* 


226  OUK   MUTUAL   FKIEND. 

11  Roger  Riderhood." 

"  Dwelling-place  V 

11  Lime 'us  Hole." 

"  Calling  or  occupation  ?" 

Not  quite  so  glib  with  this  answer  as  with  the  pre* 
vious  two,  Mr.  Riderhood  gave  in  the  definition,  "  Water- 
side character." 

"  Any  thing  against  you  ?"  Eugene  quietly  put  in,  as 
he  wrote. 

Rather  baulked,  Mr.  Riderhood  evasively  remarked, 
with  an  innocent  air,  that  he  believed  the  T'other  Gov 
ernor  had  asked  him  summa't. 

"  Ever  in  trouble  ?"  said  Eugene. 

"  Once."  (Might  happen  to  any  man,  Mr.  Riderhood 
added  incidentally.) 

11  On  suspicion  of — ?" 

"Of  seaman's  pocket,"  said  Mr.  Riderhood.  "  Where- 
by I  was  in  reality  the  man's  best  friend  and  tried  to  take 
care  of  him." 

"  With  the  sweat  of  your  brow  ?"  asked  Eugene. 

"  Till  it  poured  down  like  rain,"  said  Roger  Rider- 
hood. 

Eugene  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  and  smoked  with  his 
eyes  negligently  turned  on  the  informer,  and  his  pen 
ready  to  reduce  him  to  more  writing.  Light  wood  also 
smoked,  with  his  eyes  negligently  turned  on  the  in- 
former. 

"  Now  let  me  be  took  down  again,"  said  Riderhood, 
when  he  had  turned  the  drowned  cap  over  and  under,  and 
had  brushed  it  the  wrong  way  (if  it  had  a  right  way) 
with  his  sleeve.  "I  give  information  that  the  man  that 
done  the  Harmon  Murder  is  Gaffer  Hexain,  the  man  that 


OCR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  227 

found  the  body.  The  hand  of  Jesse  Hexam,  commonly 
called  Gaffer  on  the  river  and  along  shore,  is  the  hand 
that  done  that  deed.     His  hand  and  no  other." 

The  two  friends  glanced  at  one  another  with  more  seri- 
ous faces  than  they  had  shown  yet. 

"  Tell  us  on  what  grounds  you  make  this  accusation," 
said  Mortimer  Light  wood. 

"  On  the  grounds,"  answered  Riderhood,  wiping  his" 
face  with  his  sleeve,  "  that  I  was  Gaffer's  pardner,  and 
suspected  of  him  many  a  long  day  and  many  a  dark  night. 
On  the  grounds  that  I  knowed  his  ways.  On  the 
grounds  that  I  broke  the  pardnership  because  I  see  the 
danger  ;  which  I  warn  you  his  daughter  may  tell  you 
another  story  about  that,  for  any  think  I  can  say,  but 
you  know  what  it'll  be  worth,  for  she'd  tell  you  lies,  the 
world  round  and  the  heavens  broad,  to  save  her  father. 
On  the  grounds  that  it's  well  understood  aloug  the  caus'- 
ays  and  the  stairs  that  he  done  it.  On  the  grounds  that 
he's  fell  off  from,  because  he  done  it.  On  the  grounds 
that  I  will  swear  he  done  it.  On  the  grounds  that  you 
may  take  me  where  you  will,  and  get  me  sworn  to  it.  1 
don't  want  to  back  out  of  the  consequences.  I  have  made 
up  my  mind.     Take  me  any  wheres." 

"  All  this  is  nothing,"  said  Lightwood. 

"  Nothing  ?"  repeated  Riderhood,  indignantly  and 
amazedly. 

"  Merely  nothing.  It  goes  to  no  more  than  that  you 
suspect  this  man  of  the  crime.  You  may  do  so  with 
some  reason,  or  you  may  do  so  with  no  reason,  but  he  can 
not  be  convicted  on  your  suspicion." 

"  Havn't  I  said — I  appeal  to  the  T'other  Governor  as 
my  witness — havn't  I  said  from  the  first  minute  that  I 


228  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

opened  my  mouth  in  this  here  world- without-end-everlasting 
chair"  (he  evidently  used  that  form  of  words  as  next  in 
force  to  an  affidavit),  "  that  I  was  willing  to  swear  that 
he  done  it  ?  Haven't  I  said,  Take  me  and  get  me  sworn 
to  it  ?  Don't  I  say  so  now  ?  You  won't  deny  it,  Law 
yer  Lightwood  ?" 

"  Surely  not  ;  but  you  only  offer  to  swear  to  your  sus- 
picion, and  I  tell  you  it  is  not  enough  to  swear  to  your 
suspicion." 

"  Not  enough,  ain't  it,  Lawyer  Lightwood  V  he  cau- 
tiously demanded. 

"  Positively  not." 

"  And  did  I  say  it  was  enough  ?  Now,  I  appeal  to 
the  T'other  Governor.     Now,  fair  !     Did  I  say  so  ?" 

11  He  certainly  has  not  said  that  he  had  no  more  to 
tell,"  Eugene  observed  in  a  low  voice  without  looking  at 
him,  "  whatever  he  seemed  to  imply." 

"  Hah  !"  cried  the  informer,  triumphantly  perceiving 
that  the  remark  was  generally  in  his  favor,  though  ap- 
parently not  closely  understanding  it.  "  Fort'nate  for  me 
I  had  a  witness  1" 

"  Go  on  then,"  said  Lightwood.  "  Say  out  what  you 
have  to  say.     No  after-thought." 

11  Let  me  be  took  down  then  !"  cried  the  informer, 
eagerly  and  anxiously.  "  Let  me  be  took  down,  for  by 
George  and  the  Draggin  I'm  a  coming  to  it  now  !  Don't 
do  nothing  to  keep  back  from  a  honest  man  the  fruits  of 
the  sweat  of  his  brow  !  I  give  information,  then,  that  he 
told  me  that  he  done  it.     Is  that  enough  ?" 

"  Take  care  what  you  say,  my  friend,"  returned 
Mortimer. 

"  Lawyer  Lightwood,  take<jare,  you,  what  I  say  ;  for 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  229 

I  judge  you'll  be  answerable  for  faltering  it  up  I"  Then, 
slowly  and  emphatically  beating  it  all  out  with  his  open 
right  hand  on  the  palm  of  his  left ;  "  I  Roger  Riderhood, 
Lime'us  Hole,  Waterside  character,  tell  you,  Lawyer 
Lightwood,  that  the  man  Jesse  Hexam,  commonly  called 
upon  the  river,  and  alongshore  Gaffer,  told  me  that  he 
done  the  deed.  What's  more,  he  told  me  with  his  own 
lips  that  he  done  the  deed.  What's  more,  he  said  that  he 
done  the  deed.     And  I'll  swear  it  !" 

"  Where  did  he  tell  you  so  ?" 

"  Outside,"  replied  Riderhood,  always  beating  it  out, 
with  his  head  determinedly  set  askew,  and  his  eyes  watch- 
fully dividing  their  attention  between  his  two  auditors, 
"  outside  the  door  of  the  Six  Jolly  Fellowships,  towards 
a  quarter  arter  twelve  at  midnight — but  I  will  not  in  my 
conscience  undertake  to  swear  to  so  fine  a  matter  as  five 
minutes — on  the  night  when  he  picked  up  the  body.  The 
Six  Jolly  Fellowships  stands  on  the  spot  still.  The  Six 
Jolly  Fellowships  won't  run  away.  If  it  turns  out  that 
he  warn't  at  the  Six  Jolly  Fellowships  that  night  at  mid- 
night, I'm  a  liar." 

"  What  did  he  say  ?" 

11  I'll  tell  you  (take  me  down,  T'other  Governor,  I  ask 
no  better).  He  come  out  first  ;  I  come  out  last.  I 
might  be  a  minute  arter  him  ;  I  might  be  half  a  minute, 
I  might  be  a  quarter  of  a  minute  ;  I  can  not  swear  to 
that,  and  therefore  I  won't.  That's  knowing  the  obliga- 
tions of  a  Alfred  David,  ain't  it  ?" 

11  Go  on." 

"  I  found  him  a  waiting  to  speak  to  me.  He  says 
to  me,  'Rogue  Riderhood' — for  that's  the  name  I'm 
mostly  called  by — not  for  any  meaning  in  it,  for  mean- 


230  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

ing  it  has   none,   but   because   of  its   being   similar  to 
Roger." 

"  Never  mind  that." 

"  'Scuse  me,  Lawyer  Lightwood,  it's  a  part  of  the  truth, 
and  as  such  I  do  mind  it,  and  I  must  mHnd  it,  and  I  will 
mind  it.  '  Rogue  Riderhood,'  he  says,  '  words  passed  be- 
twixt us  on  the  river  to-night.'  Which  they  had  ;  ask 
his  daughter  !  '  I  threatened  you/  he  say,  '  to  chop  you 
over  the  fingers  with  my  boat's  stretcher,  or  take  a  aim 
at  your  brains  with  my  boat-hook.  I  did  so  on  accounts 
of  your  looking  too  hard  at  what  I  had  in  tow,  as  if  you 
was  suspicious,  and  on  accounts  of  your  holding  on  to  the 
gunwale  of  my  boat.'  I  says  to  him,  '  Gaffer,  I  know  it.' 
He  says  to  me,  '  Rogue  Riderhood,  you  are  a  man  in  a 
dozen' — I  think  he  said  in  a  score,  but  of  that  I  am  not 
positive,  so  take  the  lowest  figure,  for  precious  be  the  ob- 
ligations of  a  Alfred  David.  '  And,'  he  says,  '  when  your 
fellow-men  is  up,  be  it  their  lives  or  be  it  their  watches, 
sharp  is  ever  the  word  with  you.  Had  you  suspicions  V 
I  says,  '  Gaffer,  I  had  ;  and  what's  more,  I  have.'  He 
falls  a  shaking,  and  he  says,  '  Of  what?'  I  says,  'Of 
foul  play.'  He  falls  a  shaking  worse,  and  he  says,  '  There 
was  foul  play  then.  I  done  it  for  his  money.  Don't  be- 
tray me  !'    Those  were  the  words  as  ever  he  used." 

There  was  a  silence  broken  only  by  the  fall  of  the  ashe 
in  the  grate.     An  opportunity  which  the  informer  im 
proved  by  smearing  himself  all  over  the  head  and  neck 
and  face  with  his  drowned  cap,  and  not  at  all  improving 
his  own  appearance. 

11  What  more  ?"  asked  Lightwood. 

"  -Of  him,  d'ye  mean,  Lawyer  Lightwood  ?" 

"  Of  any  thing  to  the  purpose." 


OUR  MUTUAL   FRIEND.  231 

u  Now,  I'm  blest  if  I  understand  you,  Governors  Both," 
said  the  informer,  in  a  creeping  manner  :  propitiating 
both,  though  only  one  had  spoken.  "  What  ?  Ain't  that 
enough  ?" 

11  Did  you  ask  him  how  he  did  it,  where  he  did  it,  when 
he  did  it?" 

"  Far  be  it  from  me,  Lawyer  Lightwood  !  I  was  so 
troubled  in  mind,  that  I  wouldn't  have  knowed  more,  no, 
not  for  the  sum  as  I  expect  to  earn  from  you  by  the  sweat 
of  my  brow,  twice  told  !  I  had  put  an  end  to  the  pard- 
nership.  I  had  cut  the  connection.  I  couldn't  undo  what 
was  done  ;  and  when  he  begs  and  prays,  '  Old  pardner, 
on  my  knees,  don't  split  upon  me  V  I  only  makes  answer, 
*  Never  speak  another  word  to  Roger  Riderhood,  nor  look 
him  in  the  face  !'  and  I  shuns  that  man." 

Having  given  these  words  a  swing  to  make  them  mount 
the  higher  and  go  the  further,  Rogue  Riderhood  poured 
himself  out  another  glass  of  wine  unbidden,  and  seemed  to 
chew  it,  as,  with  the  half-emptied  glass  in  his  hand,  he 
stared  at  the  candles. 

Mortimer  glanced  at  Eugene,  but  Eugene  sat  glower 
ing  at  his  paper,  and  would  give  him  no  responsive  glance. 
Mortimer  again  turned  to  the  informer,  to  whom  he  said  : 

"  You  have  been  troubled  in  your  mind  a  long  time, 


man 


9« 


Giving  his  wine  a  final  chew,  and  swallowing  it,  the  in 
former  answered  in  a  single  word  : 

"  Hages !" 

"  When  all  that  stir  was  made,  when  the  Government 
reward  was  offered,  when  the  police  were  on  the  alert, 
when  the  whole  country  rang  with  the  crime  I"  said  Mor- 
timer, impatiently. 


232  OUR  MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

"  Hah  I"  Mr.  Riderhood  very  slowly  and  hoarsely 
chimed  in,  with  several  retrospective  nods  of  his  head. 
"  Warn't  I  troubled  in  my  mind  then  !" 

"  When  conjecture  ran  wild,  when  the  most  extravagant 
suspicions  were  afloat,  when  half  a  dozen  innocent  people 
might  have  been  laid  by  the  heels  any  hour  in  the  day  I" 
said  Mortimer,  almost  warming. 

"  Hah  !"  Mr.  Riderhood  chimed  in,  as  before.  "  "Warn't 
I  troubled  in  my  mind  through  it  all  !" 

"  But  he  hadn't,"  said  Eugene,  drawing  a  lady's  head 
upon  his  writing-paper,  and  touching  it  at  intervals,  "  the 
opportunity  then  of  earning  so  much  money,  you  see." 

"  The  T'other  Governor  hits  the  nail,  Lawyer  Light- 
wood  !  It  was  that  as  turned  me.  I  had  many  times 
and  again  struggled  to  relieve  myself  of  the  trouble  on 
my  mind,  but  I  couldn't  get  it  off.  I  had  once  very  nigh 
got  it  off  to  Miss  Abbey  Potterson  which  keeps  the  Six 
Jolly  Fellowships — there  is  the  'ouse,  it  won't  run  away 
— there  lives  the  lady,  she  ain't  likely  to  be  struck  dead 
afore  you  get  there — ask  her  ! — but  I  couldn't  do  it.  At 
last,  out  comes  the  new  bill  with  your  own  lawful  name, 
Lawyer  Lightwood,  printed  to  it,  and  then  I  asks  the 
question  of  my  own  intellects,  Am  I  to  have  this  trouble 
on  my  mind  forever  ?  Am  I  never  to  throw  it  off  ?  Am 
I  always  to  think  more  of  Gaffer  than  of  my  own  self  ? 
If  he's  got  a  daughter,  ain't  I  got  a  daughter  ?" 

"  And  echo  answered —  ?"  Eugene  suggested. 

"  You  have,"  said  Mr.  Riderhood,  in  a  firm  tone. 

"  Incidentally  mentioning,  at  the  same  time,  her  age  ?" 
inquired  Eugene. 

"  Yes,  Governor.  Two-and-twcnty  last  October.  And 
then  I  put  it  to  myself,  '  Regarding  the  money.     It  is  a 


OUE   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  233 

pot  of  money.'  For  it  is  a  pot,"  said  Mr.  Riderhood,  with 
candor,  "  and  why  deny  it  ?" 

11  Hear  !"  from  Eugene,  as  he  touched  his  drawing. 

"  '  It  is  a  pot  of  money  ;  but  is  it  a  sin  for  a  laboring 
man  that  moistens  every  crust  of  bread  he  earns  with  his 
tears — or  if  not  with  them,  with  the  colds  he  catches  in 
his  head — is  it  a  sin  for  that  man  to  earn  it  ?  Say  there 
is  any  thing  again  earning  it.'  This  I  put  to  myself 
strong,  as  in  duty  bound  ;  '  how  can  it  be  said  without 
blaming  Lawyer  Lightwood  for  offering  it  to  be  earned  V 
And  was  it  for  me  to  blame  Lawyer  Lightwood  ?    No." 

"  No,"  said  Eugene. 

'*  Certainly  not,  Governor,"  Mr.  Riderhood  acquiesced. 
"  So  I  made  up  my  mind  to  get  my  trouble  off  my  mind, 
and  to^earn  by  the  sweat  of  my  brow  what  was  held  out 
to  me.  And  what's  more,"  he  added,  suddenly  turning 
bloodthirsty,  "  I  mean  to  have  it  !  And  now  I  tell  you, 
once  and  away,  Lawyer  Lightwood,  that  Jesse  Hexam, 
commonly  called  Gaffer,  his  hand  and  no  other,  done  the 
deed,  on  his  own  confession  to  me.  And  I  give  him  up 
to  you,  and  I  want  him  took.     This  night !" 

After  another  silence,  broken  only  by  the  fall  of  the 
ashes  in  the  grate,  which  attracted  the  informer's  atten- 
tion as  if  it  were  the  chinking  of  money,  Mortimer  Light- 
wood  leaned  over  his  friend,  and  said  in  a  whisper  : 

"  I  suppose  I  must  go  with  this  fellow  to  our  impertur- 
bable friend  at  the  police-station." 

"  I  suppose,"  said  Eugene,  "  there  is  no  help  for  it." 

"  Do  you  believe  him  ?" 

"  I  believe  him  to  be  a  thorough  rascal.  But  he  may 
tell  the  truth,  for  his  own  purpose,  and  for  this  occasion 
only." 


234  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

"  It  doesn't  look  like  it." 

"  He  doesn't,"  said  Eugene.  "  But  neither  is  his  late 
partner,  whom  he  denounces,  a  prepossessing  person.  The 
firm  are  cut-throat  Shepherds  both,  in  appearance.  I 
should  like  to  ask  him  one  thing." 

The  subject  of  this  couference  sat  leering  at  the  ashes, 
trying  with  all  his  might  to  overhear  what  was  said,  but 
feigning  abstraction  as  the  "  Governors  Both"  glanced  at 
liim. 

"You  mentioned  (twice,  I  think)  a  daughter  of  this 
Hexam's,"  said  Eugene,  aloud.  "  You  don't  mean 
to  imply  that  she  had  any  guilty  knowledge  of  the 
crime  ?" 

The  honest  man,  after  considering — perhaps  consider- 
ing how  his  answer  might  affect  the  fruits  of  the  sweat  of 
his  brow — replied,  unreservedly,  "  No,  I  don't." 

"  And  you  implicate  no  other  person  ?" 

"  It  ain't  what  I  implicate,  it's  what  Gaffer  implicated," 
was  the  dogged  and  determined  answer.  "  I  don't  pre- 
tend to  know  more  than  that  his  words  to  me  was,  '  I 
done  it.'     Those  was  his  words." 

"  I  must  see  this  out,  Mortimer,"  whispered  Eugene, 
rising.     "  How  shall  we  go  ?" 

"  Let  us  walk,"  whispered  Lightwood,  "and  give  this 
fellow  time  to  think  of  it." 

Having  exchanged  the  question  and  answer,  they  pre- 
pared themselves  for  going  out,  and  Mr.  Riderhood  rose. 
While  extinguishing  the  candles,  Lightwood,  quite  as  a 
matter  of  course,  took  up  the  glass  from  which  that  hon- 
est gentleman  had  drunk,  and  coolly  tossed  it  under  the 
grate,  where  it  fell  shivering  into  fragments. 

"  Now,  if  you  will  take  the  lead,"  said  Lightwood,  "Mr. 


OUR   MUTUAL  FRIEND.  235 

"Wrayburn  and  I  will  follow.     You  know  where  to  go,  I 

suppose  ?" 

"  I  suppose  I  do,  Lawyer  Lightwood." 

"  Take  the  lead,  then." 

The  water-side  character  pulled  his  drowned  cap  over 
his  ears  with  both  hands,  and  making  himself  more  round- 
shouldered  than  nature  had  made  him,  by  the  sullen  and 
persistent  slouch  with  which  he  went,  went  down  the 
stairs,  rouud  by  the  Temple  Church,  across  the  Temple 
into  Whitefriars,  and  so  on  by  the  water-side  streets. 

"  Look  at  his  hang-dog  air,"  said  Lightwood,  follow- 
ing. 

11  It  strikes  me  rather  as  a  hang-man  air,"  returned 
Eugene.     "  He  has  undeniable  intentions  that  way." 

They  said  little  else  as  they  followed.  He  went  on  be- 
fore them  as  an  ugly  Fate  might  have  done,  and  they  kept 
him  in  view,  and  would  have  been  glad  enough  to  lose 
sight  of  him.  But  on  he  went  before  them,  always  at  the 
same  distance,  and  the  same  rate.  Aslant  against  the 
hard  implacable  weather  and  the  rough  wind,  he  was  no 
more  to  be  driven  back  than  hurried  forward,  but  held  on 
like  an  advancing  Destiny.  There  came,  when  they  were 
about  midway  on  their  journey,  a  heavy  rush  of  hail, 
which  in  a  few  minutes  pelted  the  streets  clear,  and 
whitened  them.  It  made  no  difference  to  him.  A  man's 
life  being  to  be  taken  and  the  price  of  it  got,  the  hail- 
stones to  arrest  the  purpose  must  lie  larger  and  deeper 
than  those.  He  crushed  through  them,  leaving  marks  in 
the  fast-melting  slush  that  were  mere  shapeless  holes  ;  one 
might  have  fancied,  following,  that  the  very  fashion  of  hu- 
manity had  departed  from  his  feet. 

The  blast  went  by,  and  the  moon  contended  with  the 


236  OUR  MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

fast-flying  clouds,  and  the  wild  disorder  reigning  up  there 
made  the  pitiful  tumults  in  the  streets  of  no  account.  It 
was  not  that  the  wind  swept  all  the  brawlers  into  places 
of  shelter,  as  it  had  swept  the  hail  still  lingering  in  heaps 
wherever  there  was  refuge  for  it  ;  but  that  it  seemed  as 
if  the  streets  were  absorbed  by  the  sky,  and  the  night 
were  all  in  the  air. 

u  If  he  has  had  time  to  think  of  it,"  said  Eugene,  "he 
has  not  had  time  to  think  better  of  it — or  differently  of 
it,  if  that's  better.  There  is  no  sign  of  drawing  back  in 
him  ;  and  as  I  recollect  this  place,  we  must  be  close  upon 
the  corner  where  we  alighted  that  night." 

In  fact,  a  few  abrupt  turns  brought  them  to  the  river- 
side, where  they  had  slipped  about  among  the  stones,  and 
where  they  now  slipped  more  ;  the  wind  coming  against 
them  in  slants  and  flaws,  across  the  tide  and  the  windings 
of  the  river,  in  a  furious  way.  With  that  habit  of  getting 
under  the  lee  of  any  shelter  which  water-side  characters 
acquire,  the  water-side  character  at  present  in  question 
led  the  way  to  the  lee  side  of  the  Six  Jolly  Fellowship 
Porters  before  he  spoke. 

"  Look  round  here,  Lawyer  Lightwood,  at  them  red 
curtains.  It's  the  Fellowships,  the  'ouse  as  I  told  you 
wouldn't  run  away.     And  has  it  run  away  ?" 

Not  showing  himself  much  impressed  by  this  remarka- 
ble confirmation  of  the  informer's  evidence,  Lightwood  in- 
quired what  other  business  they  had  there  ? 

"  I  wished  you  to  see  the  Fellowships  for  yourself,  Law- 
yer Lightwood,  that  you  might  judge  whether  I'm  a  liar  ; 
and  now  I'll  see  Gaffer's  window  for  myself,  that  we  may 
know  whether  he's  at  home." 

With  that  he  crept  away. 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND.  237 

"  He'll  come  back,  I  suppose  ?"  murmured  Lightwood. 

"  Ay  !  and  go  through  with  it","  murmured  Eugene. 

He  came  back  after  a  very  short  interval  indeed. 

"  Gaffer's  out,  and  his  boat's  out.  His  daughter's  at 
home,  sitting  a-looking  at  the  fire.  But  there's  some  sup- 
per getting  ready,  so  Gaffer's  expected.  I  can  find  what 
move  he's  upon,  easy  enough,  presently." 

Then  he  beckoned  and  led  the  way  again,  and  they 
came  to  the  police-station,  still  as  clean  and  cool  and 
steady  as  before,  saving  that  the  flame  of  its  lamp — being 
but  a  lamp-flame,  and  only  attached  to  the  Force  as  an 
outsider — flickered  in  the  wind. 

Also,  within  doors,  Mr.  Inspector  was  at  his  studies  as 
of  yore.  He  recognized  the  friends  the  instant  they  reap- 
peared, but  their  reappearance  had  no  effect  on  his  com- 
posure. Not  even  the  circumstance  that  Riderhood  was 
their  conductor  moved  him,  otherwise  than  that  as  he  took 
a  dip  of  ink  he  seemed,  by  a  settlement  of  his  chin  in  his 
stock,  to  propound  to  that  personage,  without  looking  at 
him,  the  question,  "  What  have  you  been  up  to,  last  V9 

Mortimer  Lightwood  asked  him,  would  he  be  so  good 
as  look  at  those  notes  ?     Handing  him  Eugene's. 

Having  read  the  first  few  lines,  Mr.  Inspector  mounted 
to  that  (for  him)  extraordinary  pitch  of  emotion  that  he 
said,  "  Does  either  of  you  two  gentlemen  happen  to  have 
a  pinch  of  snuff  about  him  ?"  Finding  that  neither  had, 
he  did  quite  as  well  without  it,  and  read  on. 

"  Have  you  heard  these  read  ?"  he  then  demanded  of 
the  honest  man. 

"No,"  said  Riderhood. 

"  Then  you  had  better  hear  them."  And  so  read  them 
aloud,  in  an  official  manner. 


238  OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 

11  Are  these  notes  correct,  now,  as  to  the  information 
you  bring  here  and  the  evidence  you  mean  to  give  V  he 
asked,  when  he  had  finished  reading. 

"  They  are.  They  are  as  correct,"  returned  Mr.  Rider- 
hood,  "  as  I  am.     I  can't  say  more  than  that  for  'em." 

"  I'll  take  this  man  myself,  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Inspector  to 
Lightwood.  Then  to  Riderhood,  "Is  he  at  home? 
Where  is  he  ?  What's  he  doing  ?  You  have  made  it 
your  business  to  know  all  about  him,  no  doubt." 

Riderhood  said  what  he  did  know,  and  promised  to  find 
out  in  a  few  minutes  what  he  didn't  know. 

"  Stop,"  said  Mr.  Inspector  ;  "  not  till  I  tell  you.  We 
mustn't  look  like  business.  Would  you  two  gentlemen 
object  to  making  a  pretense  of  taking  a  glass  of  some- 
thing in  my  company  at  the  Fellowships  ?  Well  con- 
ducted house,  and  highly  respectable  landlady." 

They  replied  that  they  would  be  happy  to  substitute  a 
reality  for  the  pretense,  which,  in  the  main,  appeared  to 
be  as  one  with  Mr.  Inspector's  meaning. 

"  Very  good,"  said  he,  takiug  his  hat  from  its  peg,  and 
putting  a  pair  of  handcuffs  in  his  pocket  as  if  tbey  were 
his  gloves.  "  Reserve  !"  Reserve  saluted.  "  You  know 
where  to  find  me  ?''  Reserve  again  saluted.  "  Rider- 
hood, when  you  have  found  out  concerning  his  coming 
home,  come  round  to  the  window  of  Cosy,  tap  twice  at  it, 
and  wait  for  me.     Now,  gentlemen." 

As  the  three  went  out  together,  and  Riderhood 
slouched  off  from  under  the  trembling  lamp  his  separate 
way,  Lightwood  asked  the  officer  what  he  thought  of 
this  ? 

Mr.  Inspector  replied,  with  due  generality  and  reticence, 
that  it  was  always  more  likely  that  a  man  had  done  a  bad 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND.  239 

thing  than  that  he  hadn't.  That  he  himself  had  several 
times  "  reckoned  up"  Gaffer,  but  had  never  been  able  to 
bring  him  to  a  satisfactory  criminal  total.  That  if  this 
story  was  true,  it  was  only  in  part  true.  That  the  two 
men,  very  shy  characters,  would  have  been  jointly  and 
pretty  equally  "  in  it  ;"  but  that  this  man  had  "  spotted" 
the  other,  to  save  himself  and  get  the  money. 

11  And  I  think,"  added  Mr.  Inspector,  in  conclusion, 
"  that  if  all  goes  well  with  him,  he's  in  a  tolerable  way  of 
getting  it.  But  as  this  is  the  Fellowships,  gentlemen, 
where  the  lights  are,  I  recommend  dropping  the  subject. 
You  can't  do  better  than  be  interested  in  some  lime 
works  any  where  down  about  Northfleet,  and  doubtful 
whether  some  of  your  lime  don't  get  into  bad  company  as 
it  comes  up  in  barges." 

"  You  hear,  Eugene  ?"  said  Lightwood,  over  his 
shoulder.     "  You  are  deeply  interested  in  lime." 

"Without  lime,"  returned  that  unmoved  barrister- 
at-law,  "  my  existence  would  be  unilluminated  by  a  ray 
of  hope." 


240  OUR   MUTUAL    FRIEND. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

TRACKING   THE    BIRD    OF    PREY 

The  two  lime  merchants,  with  their  escort,  entered  the 
dominions  of  Miss  Abbey  Potterson,  to  whom  their  es- 
cort (presenting  them  and  their  pretended  business  over 
the  half-door  of  the  bar,  in  a  confidential  way)  preferred 
his  figurative  request  that  "  a  mouthful  of  fire"  might  be 
lighted  in  Cosy.  Always  well  disposed  to  assist  the  con- 
stituted authorities,  Miss  Abbey  bade  Bob  Gliddery  at- 
tend the  gentlemen  to  that  retreat,  and  promptly  enliven 
it  with  fire  and  gas-light.  Of  this  commission  the  bare- 
armed  Bob,  leading  the  way  with  a  flaming  wisp  of  paper, 
so  speedily  acquitted  himself,  that  Cosy  seemed  to  leap 
out  of  a  dark  sleep  and  embrace  them  warmly  the  mo- 
ment they  passed  the  lintels  of  its  hospitable  door. 

"  They  burn  sherry  very  well  here,"  said  Mr.  Inspector, 
as  a  piece  of  local  intelligence.  "  Perhaps  you  gentlemen 
might  like  a  bottle  ?" 

The  answer  being  By  all  means,  Bob  Gliddery  received 
his  instructions  from  Mr.  Inspector,  and  departed  in  a  be- 
coming state  of  alacrity  engendered  by  reverence  for  the 
majesty  of  the  law. 

"  It's  a  certain  fact,"  said  Mr.  Inspector,  "  that  this 
man  we  have  received  our  information  from,"  indicating 
Riderhood  with  his  thumb  over  his  shoulder,  "  has  for 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  241 

ffome  time  past  given  the  other  man  a  bad  name  arising 
out  of  your  lime  barges,  and  that  the  other  man  has  been 
avoided  in  consequence.  I  don't  say  what  it  means  or 
proves,  but  it's  a  certain  fact.  I  had  it  first  from  one  of 
the  opposite  sex  of  my  acquaintance,  vaguely  indicating 
Miss  Abbey  with  his  thumb  over  his  shoulder,  "  down 
away  at  a  distance,  over  yonder." 

u  Then  probably  Mr.  Inspector  was  not  quite  unpre- 
pared for  their  visit  that  evening  ?"  Lightwood  hinted. 

"  Well,  you  see,"  said  Mr.  Inspector,  "  it  was  a  ques- 
tion of  making  a  move.  It's  of  no  use  moving  if  you  don't 
know  what  your  move  is.  You  had  better  by  far  keep 
still.  In  the  matter  of  this  lime,  I  certainly  had  an  idea 
that  it  might  lie  between  the  two  men  ;  I  always  had 
that  idea.  Still  I  was  forced  to  wait  for  a  start,  and  I 
wasn't  so  lucky  as  to  get  a  start.  This  man  that  we  have 
received  our  information  from  has  got  a  start,  and  if  he 
don't  meet  with  a  check  he  may  make  the  running  and 
come  in  first.  There  may  turn  out  to  be  something  con- 
siderable for  him  that  comes  in  second,  and  I  don't  men- 
tion who  may  or  who  may  not  try  for  that  place.  There's 
duty  to  do,  and  I  shall  do  it,  under  any  circumstances,  to 
the  best  of  my  judgment  and  ability." 

"  Speaking  as  a  shipper  of  lime — "  began  Eugene. 

"  Which  no  man  has  a  better  right  to  do  than  yourself, 
you  know,"  said  Mr.  Inspector. 

"  I  hope  not,"  said  Eugene  ;  "my  father  having  been 
a  shipper  of  lime  before  me,  and  my  grandfather  before 
him — in  fact  we  having  been  a  family  immersed  to  the 
crowns  of  our  heads  in  lime  during  several  generations — 
I  beg  to  observe  that  if  this  missing  lime  could  be  got 
hold  of  without  any  young  female  relative  of  any  distin- 

12 


242  OUR  MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

guished  gentleman  engaged  in  the  lime  trade  (which  I 
cherish  next  to  my  life)  being  present,  I  think  it  might  be 
a  more  agreeable  proceeding  to  the  assisting  by-standers, 
that  is  to  say  lime-burners." 

"  I  also,"  said  Lightwood,  pushing  his  friend  aside  with 
a  laugh,  "should  much  prefer  that." 

"  It  shall  be  done,  gentlemen,  if  it  can  be  done  con 
veniently,"  said  Mr.  Inspector,  with  coolness.  "  There  i? 
no  wish  on  my  part  to  cause  any  distress  in  that  quarter 
Indeed,  I  am  sorry  for  that  quarter." 

"  There  was  a  boy  in  that  quarter,"  remarked  Eugene. 
"  He  is  still  there  ?" 

"  No,"  said  Mr.  Inspector.  "  He  has  quitted  those 
works.     He  is  otherwise  disposed  of." 

"  Will  she  be  left  alone  then  ?"  asked  Eugene. 

"  She  will  be  left,"  said  Mr.  Inspector,  "  alone." 

Bob's  reappearance  with  a  steaming  jug  broke  off  the 
conversation.  But  although  the  jag  steamed  forth  a  de- 
licious perfume,  its  contents  had  not  received  that  last 
happy  touch  which  the  surpassing  finish  of  the  Six  Jolly 
Fellowship  Porters  imparted  on  such  momentous  occa- 
sions. Bob  carried  in  his  left  hand  one  of  those  iron 
models  of  sugar-loaf  hats,  before-mentioned,  into  which  he 
emptied  the  jug,  and  the  pointed  end  of  which  he  thrust 
deep  down  into  the  fire,  so  leaving  it  for  a  few  moments 
while  he  disappeared  and  reappeared  with  three  bright 
drinking-glasses.  Placing  these  on  the  table  and  bending 
over  the  fire,  meritoriously  sensible  of  the  trying  nature  of 
his  duty,  he  watched  the  wreaths  of  steam,  until  at  the 
■special  instant  of  projection  he  caught  up  the  iron  vessel 
and  gave  it  one  delicate  twirl,  causing  it  to  send  forth  one 
gentle  hiss.     Then  he  restored  the  contents  to  the  jug  ; 


OUR  MUTUAL   FRIEND.  243 

held  over  the  steam  of  the  jug  each  of  the  three  bright 
glasses  in  succession  ;  finally,  filled  them  all,  and  with 
a  clear  conscience  awaited  the  applause  of  his  fellow- 
creatures. 

It  was  bestowed  (Mr.  Inspector  having  proposed  as  an 
appropriate  sentiment  "The  lime  trade  !"),  and  Bob 
withdrew  to  report  the  commendations  of  the  guests  to 
Miss  Abbey  in  the  bar.  It  may  be  here  in  confidence  ad- 
mitted that,  the  room  being  close  shut  in  his  absence, 
there  had  not  appeared  to  be  the  slightest  reason  for  the 
elaborate  maintenance  of  this  same  lime  fiction.  Only  it 
had  been  regarded  by  Mr.  Inspector  as  so  uncommonly 
satisfactory,  aud  so  fraught  with  mysterous  virtues,  that 
neither  of  his  clients  had  presumed  to  question  it. 

Two  taps  were  now  heard  on  the  outside  of  the  win- 
dow. Mr.  Inspector  hastily  fortifying  himself  with 
another  glass,  strolled  out  with  a  noiseless  foot  and  an 
unoccupied  countenance.  As  one  might  go  to  survey  the 
weather  and  the  general  aspect  of  the  heavenly  bodies. 

"  This  is  becoming  grim,  Mortimer,"  said  Eugene,  in  a 
low  voice.     "  I  don't  like  this." 

"  Nor  I,"  said  Lightwood.     "  Shall  we  go  ?" 

"  Being  here,  let  us  stay.  You  ought  to  see  it  out,  and 
I  won't  leave  you.  Besides,  that  lonely  girl  with  the 
dark  hair  runs  in  my  head.  It  was  little  more  than  a 
glimpse  we  had  of  her  that  last  time,  and  yet  I  almost 
see  her  waiting  by  the  fire  to-night.  Do  you  feel  like  a 
dark  combination  of  traitor  and  pickpocket  when  you 
think  of  that  girl  ?» 

"  Rather,"  returned  Lightwood.     "  Do  you  ?" 

"  Yery  much  so." 

Their  escort  strolled  back  again,  and  reported.    Divest 


244:  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

ed  of  its  various  lime-lights  and  shadows,  his  report  went 
to  the  effect  that  Gaffer  was  away  in  his  boat,  supposed 
to  be  on  his  old  look-out  ;  that  he  had  been  expected  last 
high-water  ;  that  having  missed  it  for  some  reason  or 
other,  he  was  not,  according  to  his  usual  habits  at  night, 
to  be  counted  on  before  next  high-water,  or  it  might  be 
an  hour  or  so  later  ;  that  his  daughter,  surveyed  through 
the  window,  would  seem  to  be  so  expecting  him,  for  the 
supper  was  not  cooking,  but  set  out  ready  to  be  cooked  ; 
that  it  would  be  high-water  at  about  one,  and  that  it  was 
now  barely  ten  ;  that  there  was  nothing  to  be  done  but 
watch  and  wait  ;  that  the  informer  was  keeping  watch 
at  the  instant  of  that  present  reporting,  but  that  two 
heads  were  better  than  one  (especially  when  the  second 
was  Mr.  Inspector's)  ;  and  that  the  reporter  meant  to 
share  the  watch.  And  forasmuch  as  crouching  under  the 
lee  of  a  hauled-up  boat  on  a  night  when  it  blew  cold  and 
strong,  and  when  the  weather  was  varied  with  blasts  of 
hail  at  times,  might  be  wearisome  to  amateurs,  the  re- 
porter closed  with  the  recommendation  that  the  two  gen- 
tlemen should  remain  for  a  while,  at  any  rate,  in  their 
present  quarters,  which  were  weather-tight  and  warm. 

They  were  not  inclined  to  dispute  this  recommendation, 
but  they  wanted  to  know  where  they  could  join  the 
watchers  when  so  disposed.  Rather  than  trust  to  a  ver- 
bal description  of  the  place,  which  might  mislead,  Eugene 
(with  a  less  weighty  sense  of  personal  trouble  on  him  than 
he  usually  had),  would  go  out  with  Mr.  Inspector,  note 
the  spot,  and  come  back. 

On  the  shelving  bank  of  the  river,  among  the  slimy 
stones  of  a  causeway — not  the  special  causeway  of  the 
Six  Jolly  Fellowships,  which  had  a  landing-place  of  its 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  245 

own,  but  another,  a  little  removed,  and  very  near  to  the 
old  wind-mill  which  was  the  denounced  man's  dwelling- 
place — were  a  few  boats  ;  some,  moored  and  already  be- 
ginning to  float ;  others,  hauled  up  above  the  reach  of  the 
tide.  Under  one  of  these  latter  Eugene's  companion  dis- 
appeared. And  when  Eugene  had  observed  its  position 
with  reference  to  the  other  boats,  and  had  made  sure  that 
he  could  not  miss  it,  he  turned  his  eyes  upon  the  building 
where,  as  he  had  been  told,  the  lonely  girl  with  the  dark 
hair  sat  by  the  fire. 

He  could  see  the  light  of  the  fire  shining  through  the 
window.  Perhaps  it  drew  him  on  to  look  in.  Perhaps 
he  had  come  out  with  the  express  intention.  That  part  of 
the  bank  having  rank  grass  growing  on  it  there  was  no 
difficulty  in  getting  close,  without  any  noise  of  footsteps  : 
it  was  but  to  scramble  up  a  ragged  face  of  pretty  hard 
mud  some  three  or  four  feet  high  and  come  upon  the  grass 
and  to  the  window.  He  came  to  the  window  by  that 
means. 

She  had  no  other  light  than  the  light  of  the  fire.  The 
unkinclled  lamp  stood  on  the  table.  She  sat  on  the  ground 
looking  at  the  brazier,  with  her  face  leaning  on  her  hand. 
There  was  a  kind  of  film  or  flicker  on  her  face,  which  at 
first  he  took  to  be  the  fitful  fire-light ;  but,  on  a  second 
look,  he  saw  that  she  was  weeping.  A  sad  and  solitary 
spectacle,  as  shown  him  by  the  rising  and  the  falling  of 
the  fire. 

It  was  a  little  window  of  but  four  pieces  of  glass,  and 
was  not  curtained  ;  he  chose  it  because  the  larger  window 
near  it  was.  It  showed  him  the  room,  and  the  bills  upon 
the  wall  respecting  the  drowned  people  starting  out  and 
receding  by  turns.    But  he  glanced   slightly  at  themt 


246  OUR  MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

though  he  looked  long  and  steadily  at  her.  A  deep  rich 
piece  of  color,  with  the  brown  flush  of  her  cheek  and  the 
shining  lustre  of  her  hair,  though  sad  and  solitary,  weep- 
ing by  the  rising  and  falling  of  the  fire. 

She  started  up.  He  had  been  so  very  still  that  he  felt 
sure  that  it  was  not  he  who  had  disturbed  her,  so  merely 
withdrew  from  the  window  and  stood  near  it  in  the  shadow 
of  the  wall.  She  opened  the  door,  and  said,  in  an  alarm- 
ed tone,  "  Father,  was  that  you  calling  me  V*  And  again, 
"  Father  I"  And  once  again,  after  listening,  "Father  ! 
I  thought  I  heard  you  call  me  twice  before  !" 

No  response.  As  she  re-entered  at  the  door,  he  drop- 
ped over  the  bank  and  made  his  way  back,  among  the 
ooze  and  near  the  hiding-place,  to  Mortimer  Lightwood  : 
to  whom  he  told  what  he  had  seen  of  the  girl,  and  how 
this  was  becoming  very  grim  indeed. 

"  If  the  real  man  feels  as  guilty  as  I  do,"  said  Eugene, 
"  he  is  remarkably  uncomfortable." 

11  Influence  of  secrecy,"  suggested  Lightwood. 

"  I  am  not  at  all  obliged  to  it  for  making  me  Guy 
Fawkes  in  the  vault  and  a  Sneak  in  the  area  both  at  once," 
said  Eugene.     "  Give  me  some  more  of  that  stuff." 

Lightwood  helped  him  to  some  more  of  that  stuff,  but 
it  had  been  cooling,  and  didn't  answer  now. 

"  Pooh,"  said  Eugene,  spitting  it  out  among  the  ashes. 
"  Tastes  like  the  wash  of  the  river." 

"  Are  you  so  familiar  with  the  flavor  of  the  wash  of  the 
-iver  ?" 

"  I  seem  to  be  to-night.  I  feel  as  if  I  had  been  half 
drowned,  and  swallowing  a  gallon  of  it " 

"  Influence  of  locality,"  suggested  Lightwood. 

11  You  are  mighty  learned  to-night,  you  and  your  influ- 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  247 

ences,"  returned  Eugene.     "  How  long  do  we  stay  here  V 

"  How  long  do  you  think  ?" 

"  If  I  could  choose,  I  should  say  a  minute,"  replied 
Eugene,  "for  the  Jolly  Fellowship  Porters  are  not  the 
jolliest  dogs  I  have  known.  But  I  suppose  we  are  best 
here  until  they  turn  us  out  with  the  other  suspicious  char- 
acters, at  midnight." 

Thereupon  he  stirred  the  fire,  and  sat  down  on  one  side 
of  it.  It  struck  eleven,  and  he  made  believe  to  compose 
himself  patiently.  But  gradually  he  took  the  fidgets  in 
one  leg,  and  then  in  the  other  leg,  and  then  in  one  arm, 
and  then  in  the  other  arm,  and  then  in  his  chin,  and  then 
in  his  back,  and  then  in  his  forehead,  and  then  in  his  hair, 
and  then  in  his  nose  ;  and  then  he  stretched  himself  re- 
cumbent on  two  chairs,  and  groaned  ;  and  then  he  start- 
ed up. 

"  Invisible  insects  of  diabolical  activity  swarm  in  this 
place.  I  am  tickled  and  twitched  all  over.  Mentally,  I 
■nave  now  committed  a  burglary  under  the  meanest  circum- 
stances, and  the  myrmidons  of  justice  are  at  my  heels." 

"I  am  quite  as  bad,"  said  Light  wood,  sitting  up  facing 
nim,  with  a  tumbled  head,  after  going  through  some  won- 
derful evolutions,  in  which  his  head  had  been  the  lowest 
part  of  him.  "  This  restlessness  began,  with  me,  long  ago. 
All  the  time  you  were  out  I  felt  like  Gulliver  with  the 
Liliputians  firing  upon  him." 

"  It  won't  do,  Mortimer.  We  must  get  into  the  air  ; 
we  must  join  our  dear  friend  and  brother,  Riderhood. 
And  let  us  tranquilize  ourselves  by  making  a  compact. 
Next  time  (with  a  view  to  our  peace  of  miud)  we'll  com- 
mit the  crime,  instead  of  taking  the  criminal.  You  swear 
it?" 


248  OTJPw   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

"  Certainly." 

"  Sworn  !  Let  Tippins  look  to  it.  Her  life's  in  dan- 
ger." 

Mortimer  rang  the  bell  to  pay  the  score,  and  Bob  ap- 
peared to  transact  that  business  with  him  :  whom  Eugene, 
in  his  careless  extravagance,  asked  if  he  would  like  a  sit- 
uation in  the  lime-trade  ? 

"  Thankee  Sir,  no  Sir,"  said  Bob.  "  I've  a  good  siti- 
wation  here,  Sir." 

"  If  you  change  your  mind  at  any  time,"  returned  Eu- 
gene, "  come  to  me  at  my  works,  and  you'll  always  find 
an  opening  in  the  lime-kiln." 

"  Thankee  Sir,"  said  Bob. 

"  This  is  my  partner,"  said  Eugene,  "who  keeps  the 
books  and  attends  to  the  wages.  A  fair  clay's  wages  for 
a  fair  day's  work  is  ever  my  partner's  motto." 

"  And  a  very  good  'un  it  is,  gentlemen,"  said  Bob,  re- 
ceiving his  fee,  and  drawing  a  bow  out  of  his  head  with 
his  right  hand,  very  much  as  he  would  have  drawn  a  pint 
of  beer  out  of  the  beer  engine. 

"  Eugene,"  Mortimer  apostrophized  him,  laughing  quite 
heartily  when  they  were  alone  again,  "  how  can  you  be  so 
ridiculous  ?" 

11 1  am  in  a  ridiculous  humor,"  quoth  Eugene  ;  "  I  am 
a  ridiculous  fellow.  Every  thing  is  ridiculous.  Come 
along  1" 

It  passed  into  Mortimer  Lightwood's  mind  that  a  change 
of  some  sort,  best  expressed  perhaps  as  an  intensification 
of  all  that  was  wildest  and  most  negligent  and  reckless  in 
bis  friend,  had  come  upon  him  in  the  last  half  hour  or  so. 
Thoroughly  used  to  him  as  he  was,  he  found  something 
new  and  strained  in  him  that  was  for  the  moment  perplex 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  240 

ing.     This  passed  into  his  mind,  and  passed  out  again  ; 
but  he  remembered  it  afterward. 

"  There's  where  she  sits,  you  see,"  said  Eugene,  when 
they  were  standing  under  the  bank,  roared  and  riven  at 
by  the  wind.     "  There's  the  light  of  her  fire." 

"  I'll  take  a  peep  through  the  window,"  said  Mortimer. 

"  No,  don't  !"  Eugene  caught  him  by  the  arm.  "  Best 
not  make  a  show  of  her.     Come  to  our  honest  friend." 

He  led  him  to  the  post  of  watch,  and  they  both  drop 
ped  down  and  crept  under  the  lee  of  the  boat  ;  a  better 
shelter  than  it  had  seemed,  before  being  directly  contrast- 
ed with  the  blowing' wind  and  the  bare  night. 

"  Mr.  Inspector  at  home  ?"  whispered  Eugene. 

"  Here  I  am,  Sir." 

"  And  our  friend  of  the  perspiring  brow  is  at  the  far 
corner  there  ?     Good.     Any  thing  happened  ?" 

"  His  daughter  has  been  out,  thinking  she  heard  him 
calling,  unless  it  was  a  sign  to  him  to  keep  out  of  the  way. 
It  might  have  been." 

"  It  might  have  been  Rule  Britannia,"  muttered  Eu- 
gene, "  but  it  wasn't.     Mortimer  !" 

"  Here  !"     (On  the  other  side  of  Mr.  Inspector.) 

"  Two  burglaries  now,  and  a  forgery  !" 

With  this  indication  of  his  depressed  state  of  mind  Eu- 
gene fell  silent. 

They  were  all  silent  for  a  long  while.  As  it  got  to  be 
flood-tide,  and  the  water  came  nearer  to  them,  noises  on 
the  river  became  more  frequent,  and  they  listened  more 
To  the  turning  of  steam-paddles,  to  the  clinking  of  iron 
chains,  to  the  creaking  of  blocks,  to  the  measured  work- 
ing of  oars,  to  the  occasional  violent  barking  of  some 
passing  dog  on  shipboard,  who  seemed  to  scent  them  ly 

12* 


250  OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 

ing  in  their  hiding-place.  The  night  was  not  so  dark  but 
that,  besides  the  lights  at  bows  and  mast-heads  gliding 
to  and  fro,  they  could  discern  some  shadowy  bulk  attach- 
ed ;  and  now  and  then  a  ghostly  lighter  with  a  large  dark 
sail,  like  a  warning  arm,  would  start  up  very  near  them, 
pass  on,  and  vanish.  At  this  time  of  their  watch,  the  wa- 
ter close  to  them  would  be  often  agitated  by  some  impul- 
sion given  it  from  a  distance.  Often  they  believed  this 
beat  and  plash  to  be  the  boat  they  lay  in  wait  for,  run- 
ning in  ashore  ;  and  again  and  again  they  would  have 
started  up,  but  for  the  immobility  with  which  the  inform- 
er, well  used  to  the  river,  kept  quiet  in  his  place. 

The  wind  carried  away  the  striking  of  the  great  multi- 
tude of  city  church  clocks,  for  those  lay  to  leeward  of 
them  ;  but  there  were  bells  to  the  windward  that  told 
them  of  its  being  One — Two — Three.  Without  that  aid 
they  would  have  known  how  the  night  wore  by  the  fall- 
ing of  the  tide,  recorded  in  the  appearance  of  an  ever- 
widening  black  wet  strip  of  shore,  and  the  emergence  of 
the  paved  causeway  from  the  river,  foot  by  foot. 

As  the  time  so  passed,  this  slinking  business  became  a 
more  and  more  precarious  one.  It  would  seem  as  if  the 
man  had  had  some  intimation  of  what  was  in  hand  against 
him,  or  had  taken  fright  ?  His  movements  might  have 
been  planned  to  gain  for  him,  in  getting  beyond  their 
reach,  twelve  hours'  advantage  ?  The  honest  man  who 
had  expended  the  sweat  of  his  brow  became  uneasy,  and 
began  to  complain  with  bitterness  of  the  proneness  of  man- 
kind to  cheat  him — him  invested  with  the  dignity  of  La- 
bor ! 

Their  retreat  was  so  chosen  that  while  they  could  watch 
the  river  they  could  watch  the  house.     No  one  had  pass- 


OTTR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  251 

eel  in  or  out  since  the  daughter  thought  she  heard  the  fa- 
ther calling.  No  one  could  pass  in  or  out  without  being 
seen. 

"  But  it  will  be  light  at  five,"  said  Mr.  Inspector,  "and 
then  we  shall  be  seen." 

"  Look  here,"  said  Riderhood,  "  what  do  you  say  to 
this  ?     He  may  have  been  lurking  in  and  out,  and  just 
holding  his  own  between  two  or  three  bridges  for  hours ' 
back." 

"  What  do  you  make  of  that  ?"  said  Mr.  Inspector  ; 
stoical,  but  contradictory. 

11  He  may  be  doing  so  at  this  present  time." 

"  What  do  you  make  of  that  ?"  said  Mr.  Inspector. 

"My  boat's  among  them  boats  here  at  the  cause'ay." 

11  And  what  do  you  make  of  your  boat  V9  said  Mr.  In- 
spector. 

"  What  if  I  put  off  in  her  and  take  a  look  round  ?  I 
know  his  ways,  and  the  likely  nooks  he  favors.  I  know 
where  he'd  be  at  such  a  time  of  the  tide,  and  where  he'd 
be  at  such  another  time.  Ain't  I  been  his  pardner  ?  None 
of  you  need  show.  None  of  you  need  stir.  I  can  shove 
her  off  without  help  ;  and  as  to  me  being  seen,  I'm  about 
at  all  times." 

11  You  might  have  given  a  worse  opinion,"  said  Mr.  In- 
spector, after  brief  consideration.     "  Try  it." 

"  Stop  a  bit.  Let's  work  it  out.  If  I  want  you, 
I'll  drop  round  under  the  Fellowships  and  tip  you  a 
whistle." 

"  If  I  might  so  far  presume  as  to  offer  a  suggestion  to 
my  honorable  and  gallant  friend,  whose  knowledge  of  na- 
val matters  far  be  it  from  me  to  impeach,"  Eugene  struck 
in  with  great  deliberation,  "  it  would  be,  that  to  tip  a 


252  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

whistle  is  to  advertise  mystery  and  invite  speculation.  My 
honorable  and  gallant  friend  will,  I  trust,  excuse  me,  as 
an  independent  member,  for  throwing  out  a  remark  which 
I  feel  to  be  due  to  this  house  and  the  country." 

"Was  that  the  T'other  Governor,  or  Lawyer  Light- 
wood  ?"  asked  Riderhood  ;  for  they  spoke,  as  they  crouch- 
ed or  lay,  without  seeing  one  another's  faces. 

"  In  reply  to  the  question  put  by  my  honorable  and  gal- 
lant friend,"  said  Eugene,  who  was  lying  on  his  back  with 
his  hat  on  his  face,  as  an  attitude  highly  expressive  of 
watchfulness,  "  I  can  have  no  hesitation  in  replying  (it  not 
being  inconsistent  with  the  public  service)  that  those  ac- 
cents were  the  accents  of  the  T'other  Governor." 

"  You've  tolerable  good  eyes,  ain't  you,  Governor  ? 
You've  all  tolerable  good  eyes,  ain't  you  ?"  demanded  the 
informer. 

All. 

"  Then  if  I  row  up  under  the  Fellowships  and  lay  there, 
no  need  to  whistle.  You'll  make  out  that  there's  a  speck 
of  something  or  another  there,  and  you'll  know  it's  me, 
and  you'll  come  down  that  cause'ay  to  me.  Understood 
all?" 

Understood  all. 

"  Off  she  goes  then  I" 

In  a  moment,  with  the  wind  cutting  keenly  at  him  side- 
ways, he  was  staggering  down  to  his  boat  ;  in  a  few  mo- 
ments he  was  clear,  and  creeping  up  the  river  under  their 
own  shore. 

Eugene  had  raised  himself  on  his  elbow  to  look  into  the 
darkness  after  him.  "  I  wish  the  boat  of  my  honorable 
and  gallant  friend,"  he  murmured,  lying  down  again  and 
speaking  into  his  hat,  "  may  be  endowed  with  philanthropy 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  253 

enough  to  turn  bottom  upward  and  extinguish  him  ! — 
Mortimer." 

"  My  honorable  friend." 

"  Three  burglaries,  two  forgeries,  and  a  midnight  as- 
sassination." 

Yet,  in  spite  of  having  those  weights  on  his  conscience, 
Eugene  was  somewhat  enlivened  by  the  late  slight  change 
in  the  circumstances  of  affairs.  So  were  his  two  compa- 
nions. Its  being  a  change  was  every  thing.  The  sus- 
pense seemed  to  have  taken  a  new  lease,  and  to  have  be- 
gun afresh  from  a  recent  date.  There  was  something  ad- 
ditional to  look  for.  They  were  all  three  more  sharply 
on  the  alert,  and  less  deadened  by  the  miserable  influences 
of  the  place  and  time. 

More  than  an  hour  had  passed,  and  they  were  even 
dozing,  when  one  of  the  three — each  said  it  was  he,  and 
he  had  not  dozed — made  out  Riderhood  in  his  boat  at  the 
spot  agreed  on.  They  sprang  up,  came  out  from  their 
shelter,  and  went  down  to  him.  When  he  saw  them  com 
ing  he  dropped  alongside  the  causeway  ;  so  that  they, 
standing  on  the  causeway,  could  speak  with  him  in  whis- 
pers, under  the  shadowy  mass  of  the  Six  Jolly  Fellowship 
Porters  fast  asleep. 

11  Blest  if  I  can  make  it  out !"  said  he,  staring  at  them. 

"  Make  what  out  ?     Have  you  seen  him  ?" 

11  No." 

"  What  have  you  seen  ?"  asked  Lightwood,  for  he  was 
staring  at  them  in  the  strangest  way. 

11  I've  seen  his  boat." 

"  Not  empty  ?" 

"  Yes,  empty.  And  what's  more, — adrift.  And  what's 
more, — with  one  scull  gone.     And  what's  more, — with 


254:  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

t'other  scull  jammed  in  the  thowels  and  broke  short  off. 
And  what's  more, — the  boat's  drove  tight  by  the  tide 
'atwixt  two  tiers  of  barges.  And  what's  more, — he's  in 
luck  again,  by  George  if  he  ain't  I" 


OUK  MUTUAL  FRIEND.  255 


CHAPTER  XIY. 

THE    BIRD    OF   PREY    BROUGHT   DOWN. 

Cold  on  the  shore,  in  the  raw  cold  of  that  leaden  crisis 
in  the  four-and-twenty  hours  when  the  vital  force  of  all 
the  noblest  and  prettiest  things  that  live  is  at  its  lowest, 
the  three  watchers  looked  each  at  the  blank  faces  of  the 
other  two,  and  all  at  the  blank  face  of  Riderhood  in  his 
boat. 

11  Gaffer's  boat,  Gaffer  in  luck  again,  and  yet  no 
Gaffer  !"     So  spake  Riderhood,  staring  disconsolate. 

As  if  with  one  accord,  they  all  turned  their  eyes  toward 
the  light  of  the  fire  shining  through  the  window.  It  was 
fainter  and  duller.  Perhaps  fire,  like  the  higher  animal 
and  vegetable  life  it  helps  to  sustain,  has  its  greatest  ten- 
dency toward  death,  when  the  night  is  dying  and  the  day 
is  not  yet  born. 

"If  it  was  me  that  had  the  law  of  this  here  job  in 
hand,"  growled  Riderhood,  with  a  threatening  shake 
of  his  head,  "  blest  if  I  wouldn't  lay  hold  of  her,  at  any 
rate  1" 

"Ay,  but  it  is  not  you,"  said  Eugene.  With  some- 
thing so  suddenly  fierce  in  him  that  the  informer  re- 
turned, submissively  :  "  Well,  well,  well,  t'other  governor, 
I  didn't  say  it  was.     A  man  may  speak." 

13 


256  OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 

"  And  vermin  may  be  silent,"  said  Eugene.  "  Hold 
your  tongue,  you  water-rat !" 

Astonished  by  his  friend's  unusual  heat,  Lightwood 
stared  too,  and  then  said  :  "What  can  have  become  of 
this  man  ?" 

"  Can't  imagine.  Unless  he  dived  overboard."  The 
informer  wiped  his  brow  ruefully  as  he  said  it,  sitting  in 
his  boat,  and  always  staring  disconsolate. 

"  Did  you  make  his  boat  fast  ?" 

"  She's  fast  enough  till  the  tide  runs  back.  I  couldn't 
make  her  faster  than  she  is.  Come  aboard  of  mine,  and 
see  for  your  ownselves." 

There  was  a  little  backwardness  in  complying,  for  the 
freight  looked  too  much  for  the  boat  ;  but  on  Riderhood's 
protesting  "  that  he  had  had  half  a  dozen,  dead  and  alive, 
in  her  afore  now,  and  she  was  nothing  deep  in  the  water 
nor  down  in  the  stern  even  then,  to  speak  of,"  they  care- 
fully took  their  places,  and  trimmed  the  crazy  thing. 
While  they  were  doing  so,  Riderhood  still  sat  staring  dis- 
consolate. 

"  All  right.     Give  way  !"  said  Lightwood. 

"  Give  way,  by  George  !"  repeated  Riderhood,  before 
shoving  off.  "  If  he's  gone  and  made  off  any  how,  Law- 
yer Lightwood,  it's  enough  to  make  me  give  way  in  a  dif- 
ferent manner.  But  he  always  was  a  cheat,  confound 
him  !  He  always  was  a  infernal  cheat,  was  Gaffer. 
Nothing  straightfor'ard,  nothing  on  the  square.  So  mean, 
so  underhanded.  Never  going  through  with  a  thing,  nor 
carrying  it  out  like  a  man  !" 

"  Hallo  1  steady  1"  cried  Eugene  (he  had  recovered 
immediately  on  embarking),  as  they  bumped  heavily 
against  a  pile  ;  and  then  in  a  lower  voice  reversed  his 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND.  257 

late  apostrophe  by  remarking  ("I  wish  the  boat  of  my 
honorable  and  gallant  friend  may  be  endowed  with  philan- 
thropy enough  not  to  turn  bottom-upward  and  extinguish 
us  !)  Steady,  steady  !  Sit  close,  Mortimer.  Here's  the 
hail  again.  See  how  it  flies,  like  a  troop  of  wild-cats,  at 
Mr.  Riderhood's  eyes  I" 

Indeed  he  had  the  full  benefit  of  it,  and  it  so  mauled 
him,  though  he  bent  his  head  low  and  tried  to  present 
nothing  but  the  mangy  cap  to  it,  that  he  dropped  under 
the  lee  of  a  tier  of  shipping,  and  they  lay  there  until  it 
was  over.  The  squall  had  come  up,  like  a  spiteful  mes- 
senger before  the  morning  ;  there  followed  in  its  wake  a 
ragged  tear  of  light  which  ripped  the  dark  clouds  until 
they  showed  a  great  grey  hole  of  day. 

They  were  all  shivering,  and  everything  about  them 
seemed  to  be  shivering  ;  the  river  itself,  craft,  rigging, 
sails,  such  early  smoke  as  there  yet  was  on  the  shore. 
Black  with  wet,  and  altered  to  the  eye  by  white  patches 
of  hail  and  sleet,  the  huddled  buildings  looked  lower  than 
usual,  as  if  they  were  cowering,  and  had  shrunk  with  the 
cold.  Very  little  life  was  to  be  seen  on  either  bank,  win- 
dows and  doors  were  shut,  and  the  staring  black  and  white 
letters  upon  wharves  and  warehouses  "  looked,"  said 
Eugene  to  Mortimer,  "  like  inscriptions  over  the  graves 
of  dead  businesses." 

As  they  glided  slowly  on,  keeping  under  the  shore 
and  sneaking  in  and  out  among  the  shipping  by  back- 
alleys  of  water,  in  a  pilfering  way  that  seemed  to  be 
their  boatman's  normal  manner  of  progression,  all  the 
objects  among  which  they  crept  were  so  huge  in  contrast 
with  their  wretched  boat,  as  to  threaten  to  crush  it.  Not 
a  ship's  hull,  with  its  rusty  iron  links  of  cable  run  out  of 


258  OUR  MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

hawse-holes  long  discolored  with  the  iron's  rusty  tears,  but 
seemed  to  be  there  with  a  'fell  intention.     Not  a  figure- 
head but  had  a  menacing  look  of  bursting  forward  to  run 
them  down.     Not  a  sluice  gate,  or  a  painted  scale  upon  a 
post  or  wall,  showing  the  depth  of  water,  but  seemed  to 
hint,  like  the  dreadfully  facetious  Wolf  in  bed  in  Grand- 
mamma's cottage,  "  That's  to  drown  you  in,  my  dears  !" 
Not  a  lumbering  black  barge,  with  its  cracked  and  blis- 
tered side  impending  over  them,  but  seemed  to  suck  at 
the  river  with  a  thirst  for  sucking  them  under.     And 
every  thing  so  vaunted  the  spoiling  influences  of  water — 
discolored   copper,   rotten   wood,    honey-combed    stone, 
green  dank  deposit — that  the  after-consequences  of  being 
crushed,  sucked  under,  and  drawn  down,  looked  as  ugly 
to  the  imagination  as  the  main  event. 

Some  half  hour  of  this  work,  and  Riderhood  unshipped 
his  sculls,  stood  holding  on  to  a  barge,  and  hand  over 
hand  long-wise  along  the  barge's  side  gradually  worked 
his  boat  under  her  head  into  a  secret  little  nook  of  scum- 
my water.  And  driven  into  that  nook,  and  wedged  as  he 
had  described,  was  Gaffer's  boat  ;  that  boat  with  the 
stain  still  in  it,  bearing  some  resemblance  to  a  muffled 
human  form. 

"  Now  tell  me  I'm  a  liar  !"  said  the  honest  man. 

("  With  a  morbid  expectation,"  murmured  Eugene  to 
Lightwood,  "  that  somebody  is  always  going  to  tell  him 
the  truth.") 

"  This  is  Hexam's  boat,"  said  Mr.  Inspector.  "  I  know 
her  well." 

"Look  at  the  broken  scull.  Look  at  the  t'other 
scull  gone.  Now  tell  me  I  am  a  liar  1"  said  the  honest 
man. 


OUR  MUTUAL   FRIEND.  259 

Mr.  Inspector  stepped  into  the  boat.  Eugene  and 
Mortimer  looked  on. 

"  And  see  now  I"  added  Riderhood,  creeping  aft,  and 
showing  a  stretched  rope  made  fast  there  and  towing 
overboard.     "  Didn't  I  tell  you  he  was  in  luck  again  ?" 

"  Haul  in,"  said  Mr.  Inspector. 

"  Easy  to  say  haul  in,"  answered  Riderhood.  "  Not 
so  easy  done.  His  luck's  got  fouled  under  the  keels  of 
the  barges.  I  tried  to  haul  in  last  time,  but  I  couldn't. 
See  how  taut  the  line  is  !" 

11 1  must  have  it  up,"  said  Mr.  Inspector.  "  I  am  go- 
ing to  take  this  boat  ashore,  and  his  luck  along  with  it. 
Try  easy  now." 

He  tried  easy  now  ;  but  the  luck  resisted  ;  wouldn't 
come. 

"  I  mean  to  have  it,  and  the  boat  too,"  said  Mr.  In- 
spector, playing  the  line. 

But  still  the  luck  resisted  ;  wouldn't  come. 

"  Take  care,"  said  Riderhood.  "  You'll  disfigure.  Or 
pull  asunder  perhaps." 

"lam  not  going  to  do  either,  not  even  to  your  Grand- 
mother," said  Mr.  Inspector  ;  "  but  I  mean  to  have  it. 
Come  !"  he  added,  at  once  persuasively  and  with  author- 
ity to  the  hidden  object  in  the  water,  as  he  played  the 
line  again  ;  "it's  no  good  this  sort  of  game,  you  know. 
You  must  come  up.     I  mean  to  have  you." 

There  was  so  much  virtue  in  this  distinctly  and  decid- 
edly meaning  to  have  it,  that  it  yielded  a  Jjttle,  even  while 
the  line  was  played. 

"  I  told  you  so,"  quoth  Mr.  Inspector,  pulling  off  his 
outer  coat,  and  leaning  well  over  the  stern  with  a  will. 
"  Come  1" 


260  OUK   MUTUAL  FKIEND. 

It  was  an  awful  sort  of  fishing,  but  it  no  more  discon- 
certed Mr.  Inspector  than  if  he  had  been  fishing  in  a  punt 
on  a  summer  evening  by  some  soothing  weir  high  up  the 
peaceful  river.  After  certain  minutes,  and  a  few  direc- 
tions to  the  rest  to  "  ease  her  a  little  for'ard,"  and  "  now 
ease  her  a  trifle  aft,"  and  the  like,  he  said,  composedly, 
"  AH  clear  !"  and  the  line  and  the  boat  came  free 
together. 

Accepting  Lightwood's  proffered  hand  to  help  him  up, 
he  then  put  on  his  coat,  and  said  to  Riderhood,  "  Hand 
me  over  those  spare  sculls  of  yours,  and  111  pull  this  into 
the  nearest  stairs.  Go  ahead  you,  and  keep  out  in  pretty 
open  water,  that  I  mayn't  get  fouled  again." 

His  directions  were  obeyed,  and  they  pulled  ashore  di- 
rectly ;   two  in  one  boat,  two  in  the  other. 

"  Now,"  said  Mr.  Inspector,  again  to  Riderhood,  when 
they  were  all  on  the  slushy  stones  ;  "  you  have  had  more 
practice  in  this  than  I  have  had,  and  ought  to  be  a  better 
workman  at  it.  Undo  the  tow-rope,  and  we'll  help  you 
haul  in." 

Riderhood  got  into  the  boat  accordingly.  It  appeared 
as  if  he  had  scarcely  had  a  moment's  time  to  touch  the 
rope  or  look  over  the  stern,  when  he  came  scrambling 
back,  as  pale  as  the  morning,  and  gasped  out : 

"  By  the  Lord,  he's  done  me  !" 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?"  they  all  demanded. 

He  pointed  behind  him  at  the  boat,  and  gasped  to 
that  degree  that  he  dropped  upon  the  stones  to  get  his 
breath. 

"  Gaffer's  done  me.     It's  Gaffer  !" 

They  ran  to  the  rope,  leaviug  him  gasping  there.  Soon 
the  form  of  the  bird  of  prey,  dead  some  hours,  lay  stretched 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  261 

upon  the  shore,  with  a  new  blast  storming  at  it  and  clot- 
ting the  wet  hair  with  hailstones. 

Father,  was  that  you  calling  me  ?  Father  !  I  thought 
I  heard  you  call  me  twice  before  !  Words  never  to  be 
answered,  those,  upon  the  earth-side  of  the  grave.  The 
wind  sweeps  jeeringly  over  Father,  whips  him  with  the 
frayed  ends  of  his  dress  and  his  jagged  hair,  tries  to  turn 
him  where  he  lies  stark  on  his  back,  and  force  his  face  to- 
ward the  rising  sun,  that  he  may  be  shamed  the  more.  A 
lull,  and  the  wind  is  secret  and  prying  with  him  ;  lifts  and 
lets  fall  a  rag  ;  hides  palpitating  under  another  rag  ;  runs 
nimbly  through  his  hair  and  beard.  Then,  in  a  rush,  it 
cruelly  taunts  him.  Father,  was  that  you  calling  me  ? 
Was  it  you,  the  voiceless  and  the  dead  ?  Was  it  you, 
thus  buffeted  as  you  lie  here  in  a  heap  ?  Was  it  you, 
thus  baptized  unto  Death,  with  these  flying  impurities  now 
flung  upon  your  face  ?  Why  not  speak,  Father  ?  Soak- 
ing into  this  filthy  ground  as  you  lie  here,  is  your  own 
shape.  Did  you  never  see  such  a  shape  soaked  into  your 
boat  ?  Speak,  Father.  Speak  to  us,  the  winds,  the  only 
listeners  left  you  ! 

"  Now  see,"  said  Mr.  Inspector,  after  mature  delibera- 
tion :  kneeling  on  one  knee  beside  the  body,  when  they 
had  stood  looking  down  on  the  drowned  man,  as  he  had 
many  a  time  looked  down  on  many  another  man  :  "  the 
way  of  it  was  this.  Of  course  you  gentlemen  hardly 
failed  to  observe  that  he  was  towing  by  the  neck  and 
arms." 

They  had  helped  to  release  the  rope,  and  of  course 
not. 

"  And  you  will  have  observed  before,  and  you  will  ob- 
serve now,  that  this  knot,  which  was  drawn  shock-tight 


262  OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 

round  his  neck  by  the  strain  of  his  own  arms,  is  a  slip- 
knot :"  holding  it  up  for  demonstration. 

Plain  enough. 

"  Likewise  you  will  have  observed  how  he  had  run  the 
other  end  of  this  rope  to  his  boat." 

It  had  the  curves  and  indentations  in  it  still,  where  it 
had  been  twined  and  bound. 

"  Now  see,"  said  Mr.  Inspector,  "  see  how  it  works 
round  upon  him.  It's  a  wild  tempestuous  evening  when 
this  man  that  was,"  stooping  to  wipe  some  hailstones  out 
of  his  hair  with  an  end  of  his  own  drowned  jacket, 
" — there!  Now  he's  more  like  himself,  though  he's 
badly  bruised — when  this  man  that  was  rows  out  upon 
the  river  on  his  usual  lay.  He  carries  with  him  this  coil 
of  rope.  He  always  carries  with  him  this  coil  of  rope. 
It's  as  well  known  to  me  as  he  was  himself.  Sometimes 
it  lay  in  the  bottom  of  his  boat.  Sometimes  he  hung  it 
loose  round  his  neck.  He  was  a  light-dresser  was  this 
man — you  see?"  lifting  the  loose  neckerchief  over  his 
breast,  and  taking  the  opportunity  of  wiping  the  dead 
lips  with  it — "  and  when  it  was  wet,  or  freezing,  or  blew 
cold,  he  would  hang  this  coil  of  line  round  his  neck. 
Last  evening  he  does  this.  Worse  for  him  !  He  dodges 
about  in  his  boat,  does  this  man,  till  he  gets  chilled.  His 
hands,"  taking  up  one  of  them,  which  dropped  like  a 
leaden  weight,  "get  numbed.  He  sees  some  object  that's 
in  his  way  of  business,  floating.  He  makes  ready  to  se- 
cure that  object.  He  unwinds  the  end  of  his  coil  that  he 
wants  to  take  some  turns  on  in  his  boat,  and  he  takes 
turns  enough  on  it  to  secure  that  it  sha'n't  run  out.  He 
makes  it  too  secure,  as  it  happens.  He  is  a  little  longer 
about  this  than  usual,  his  hands  being  numbed.     His  ob- 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND.  263 

ject  drifts  up,  before  he  is  quite  ready  for  it.  He  catches 
at  it,  thinks  he'll  make  sure  of  the  contents  of  the  pock- 
ets any  how,  in  case  he  should  be  parted  from  it,  bends 
right  over  the  stern,  and  in  one  of  these  heavy  squalls,  or 
in  the  cross-swell  of  two  steamers,  or  in  not  being  quite 
prepared,  or  through  all  or  most  or  some,  gets  a  lurch, 
overbalances  and  goes  head-foremost  overboard.  Now 
see  1  He  can  swim,  can  this  man,  and  instantly  he  strikes 
out.  But  in  such  striking-out  he  tangles  his  arms,  pulls 
strong  on  the  slip-knot,  and  it  runs  home.  The  object  he 
had  expected  to  take  in  tow  floats  by,  and  his  own  boat 
tows  him  dead,  to  where  we  found  him,  all  enfangled  in 
his  own  line.  You'll  ask  me  how  I  make  out  about  the 
pockets  ?  First,  I'll  tell  you  more  ;  there  was  silver  in 
'em.  How  do  I  make  that  out  ?  Simple  and  satisfac- 
tory. Because  he's  got  it  here."  The  lecturer  held  up 
the  tightly  clenched  right  hand. 

"  What  is  to  be  done  with  the  remains?"  asked  Light- 
wood. 

"  If  you  wouldn't  object  to  standing  by  him  half  a 
minute,  sir,"  was  the  reply,  "  I'll  find  the  nearest  of  our 
men  to  come  and  take  charge  of  him — I  still  call  it  him, 
you  see,"  said  Mr.  Inspector,  looking  back  as  he  went, 
with  a  philosophical  smile  upon  the  force  of  habit. 

"  Eugene,"  said  Light  wood — and  was  about  to  add 
"  we  may  wait  at  a  little  distance,"  when  turning  his  head 
he  found  that  no  Eugene  was  there. 

He  raised  his  voice  and  called  "  Eugene  !  Holloa  !" 
But  no  Eugene  replied. 

It  was  broad  daylight  now,  and  he  looked  about.  But 
no  Eugene  was  in  all  the  view. 

Mr.  Inspector  speedily  returning  down  the  wooden 
13* 


264  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

stairs,  with  a  police  constable,  Lightwood  asked  him  if  he 
had  seen  his  friend  leave  them  ?  Mr.  Inspector  could  not 
exactly  say  that  he  had  seen  him  go,  but  had  noticed  that, 
he  was  restless. 

II  Singular  and  entertaining  combination,  sir,  your 
friend." 

II I  wish  it  had  not  been  a  part  of  his  singular  and  en- 
tertaining combination  to  give  me  the  slip  under  these 
dreary  circumstances  at  this  time  of  the  morning,"  said 
Lightwood.     "  Can  we  get  anything  hot  to  drink  ?" 

We  could,  and  we  did.  In  a  public-house  kitchen  with 
a  large  fire.  We  got  hot  brandy  and  water,  and  it  re- 
vived us  wonderfully.  Mr.  Inspector  having  to  Mr.  Ri- 
derhood  announced  his  official  intention  of  "  keeping  his 
eye  upon  him,"  stood  him  in  a  corner  of  the  fire-place, 
like  a  wet  umbrella,  and  took  no  further  outward  and 
visible  notice  of  that  honest  man,  except  ordering  a  sepa- 
rate service  of  brandy  and  water  for  him  :  apparently  out 
of  the  public  funds. 

As  Mortimer  Lightwood  sat  before  the  blazing  fire, 
conscious  of  drinking  brandy  and  water  then  and  there  in 
his  sleep,  and  yet  at  one  and  the  same  time  drinking 
burned  sherry  at  the  Six  Jolly  Fellowships,  and  lying  un- 
der the  boat  on  the  river  shore,  and  sitting  in  the  boat 
that  Riderhood  rowed,  and  listening  to  the  lecture  re- 
cently concluded,  and  having  to  dine  in  the  Temple  with 
an  unknown  man,  who  described  himself  as  M.  R.  F. 
Eugene  Gaffer  Harmon,  and  said  he  lived  at  Hailstorm — 
as  he  passed  through  these  curious  vicissitudes  of  fatigue 
and  slumber,  arranged  upon  the  scale  of  a  dozen  hours  to 
the  second,  he  became  aware  of  answering  aloud  a  com- 
munication of  pressing  importance  that  had  never  been 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  265 

made  to  him,  and  then  turned  it  into  a  cough  on  behold- 
ing Mr.  Inspector.  For  he  felt,  with  some  natural  indig- 
nation, that  that  functionary  might  otherwise  suspect  him 
of  having  closed  his  eyes,  or  wandered  in  his  attention. 

"  Here  just  before  us,  you  see,"  said  Mr.  Inspector. 

"  /see,"  said  Lightwood,  with  dignity. 

"  And  had  hot  brandy  and  water  too,  you  see,"  said 
Mr.  Inspector,  "  and  then  cut  off  at  a  great  rate." 

"  Who  ?"  said  Lightwood. 

"  Your  friend,  you  know." 

"  /know,"  he  replied,  again  with  dignity. 

After  hearing,  in  a  mist  through  which  Mr.  Inspector 
loomed  vague  and  large,  that  the  officer  took  upon  him- 
self to  prepare  the  dead  man's  daughter  for  what  had  be- 
fallen in  the  night,  and  generally  that  he  took  everything 
upon  himself,  Mortimer  Lightwood  stumbled  in  his  sleep 
to  a  cab-stand,  called  a  cab,  and  had  entered  the  army 
and  committed  a  capital  military  offence  and  been  tried 
by  court-martial  and  found  guilty  and  had  arranged  his 
affairs  and  been  marched  out  to  be  shot,  before  the  door 
banged. 

Hard  work  rowing  the  cab  through  the  City  to  the 
Temple,  for  a  cup  of  from  five  to  ten  thousand  pounds 
value,  given  by  Mr.  Boffin  ;  and  hard  work  holding  forth 
at  that  immeasurable  length  to  Eugene  (when  he  had 
been  rescued  with  a  rope  from  the  running  pavement)  for 
making  off  in  that  extraordinary  manner  !  But  he  offered 
such  ample  apologies,  and  was  so  very  penitent,  that  when 
Lightwood  got  out  of  the  cab,  he  gave  the  driver  a  par- 
ticular charge  to  be  careful  of  him.  Which  the  driver 
(knowing  there  was  no  other  fare  left  inside)  stared  at 
prodigiously. 


266  OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 

In  short,  the  night's  work  had  so  exhausted  and  worn 
out  this  actor  in  it,  that  he  had  become  a  mere  somnam- 
bulist. He  was  too  tired  to  rest  in  his  sleep,  until  he  was 
even  tired  out  of  being  too  tired,  and  dropped  into  obli- 
vion. Late  in  the  afternoon  he  awoke,  and  in  some 
anxiety  sent  round  to  Eugene's  lodging  hard  by  to  inquire 
if  he  were  up  yet  ? 

Oh  yes,  he  was  up.  In  fact,  he  had  not  been  to  bed 
He  had  just  come  home.  And  here  he  was,  close  follow- 
ing on  the  heels  of  the  message. 

"  Why  what  bloodshot,  draggled,  disheveled  spectacle 
is  this  !"  cried  Mortimer. 

"  Are  my  feathers  so  very  much  rumpled  ?"  said  Eugene, 
coolly  going  up  to  the  looking-glass.  "  They  are  rather 
out  of  sorts.     But  consider.    Such  a  night  for  plumage  !" 

"  Such  a  night  ?"  repeated  Mortimer.  "  What  became 
of  you  in  the  morning  ?" 

"  My  dear  fellow,"  said  Eugene,  sitting  on  his  bed,  "  I 
felt  that  we  had  bored  one  another  so  long,  that  an  un- 
broken continuance  of  those  relations  must  inevitably  ter- 
minate in  our  flying  to  opposite  points  of  the  earth.  I  also 
felt  that  I  had  committed  every  crime  in  the  Newgate 
Calendar.  So,  for  mingled  considerations  of  friendship 
and  felony,  I  took  a  walk." 


OUR   MUTUAL   FKIEND.  2G7 


CHAPTER  XV. 

TWO     NEW     SERVANTS. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Boffin  sat  after  breakfast,  in  the  Bower, 
a  prey  to  prosperity.  Mr.  Boffin's  face  denoted  Care  and 
Complication.  Many  disordered  papers  were  before  hiin, 
and  he  looked  at  them  about  as  hopefully  as  an  innocent 
civilian  might  look  at  a  crowd  of  troops  whom  he  was  re- 
quired at  five  minutes'  notice  to  mancevre  and  review. 
He  had  been  engaged  in  some  attempts  to  make  notes  of 
these  papers  ;  but  being  troubled  (as  men  of  his  stamp 
often  are)  with  an  exceedingly  distrustful  and  corrective 
thumb,  that  busy  member  had  so  often  interposed  to  smear 
his  notes,  that  they  were  little  more  legible  than  the 
various  impressions  of  itself,  which  blurred  his  nose  and 
forehead.  It  is  curious  to  consider,  in  such  a  case  was 
Mr.  Boffin's,  what  a  cheap  article  ink  is,  and  how  far  it 
may  be  made  to  go.  As  a  grain  of  musk  will  scent  a 
drawer  for  many  years,  and  still  lose  nothing  appreciable 
of  its  original  weight,  so  a  halfpenny-worth  of  ink  would 
blot  Mr.  Boffin  to  the  roots  of  his  hair  and  the  calves  of 
his  legs,  without  inscribing  a  line  on  the  paper  before  him, 
or  appearing  to  diminish  in  the  inkstand. 

Mr.  Boffin  was  in  such  severe  literary  difficulties  that 
his  eyes  were  prominent  and  fixed,  and  his  breathing  was 
stertorous,  when,  to  the  great  relief  of  Mrs.  Boffin,  who 


268  OUR  MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

observed  these  symptoms  with  alarm,  the  yard  bell 
rang. 

"  Who's  that,  I  wonder  !"  said  Mrs.  Boffin. 

Mr.  Boffin  drew  a  long  breath,  laid  down  his  pen,  looked 
at  hi$  notes  as  doubting  whether  he  had  the  pleasure  of 
their  acquaintance,  and  appeared,  on  a  second  perusal  of 
their  countenances,  to  be  confirmed  in  his  impression  that 
he  had  not,  when  there  was  announced  by  the  hammer- 
headed  young  man  : 

"  Mr.  Rokesmith." 

"  Oh  !"  said  Mr.  Boffin.  "  Oh  indeed  !  Our  and  the 
Wilfers'  Mutual  Friend,  my  dear.  Yes.  Ask  him  to 
come  in." 

Mr.  Rokesmith  appeared. 

"  Sit  down,  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Boffin,  shaking  hands  with 
him.  "  Mrs.  Boffin  you're  already  acquainted  with. 
Well,  Sir,  I  am  rather  unprepared  to  see  you,  for,  to  tell 
you  the  truth,  I've  been  so  busy  with  one  thing  and 
another,  that  I've  not  had  time  to  turn  your  offer  over." 

"  That's  apology  for  both  of  us  :  for  Mr.  Boffin,  and 
for  me  as  well,"  said  the  smiling  Mrs.  Boffin.  "But  Lor  ! 
we  can  talk  it  over  now  ;  can't  us  ?" 

Mr.  Rokesmith  bowed,  thanked  her,  and  said  he 
hoped  so. 

"  Let  me  see  then,"  resumed  Mr.  Boffin,  with  his  hand 
to  his  chin.  "  It  was  Secretary  that  you  named  ;  wasn't 
it?" 

"  I  said  Secretary,"  assented  Mr.  Rokesmith. 

11  It  rather  puzzled  me  at  the  time,  said  Mr.  Boffin, 
"  and  it  rather  puzzled  me  and  Mrs.  Boffin  when  we  spoke 
of  it  afterward,  because  (not  to  make  a  mystery  of  our 
belief)  we  have  always  believed  a  Secretary  to  be  a  piece 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  269 

of  furniture,  mostly  of  mahogany,  lined  with  green  baize 
or  leather,  with  a  lot  of  little  drawers  in  it.  Now,  you 
won't  think  I  take  a  liberty  when  I  mention  that  you  cer- 
tainly ain't  that? 

"  Certainly  not,"  said  Mr.  Rokesmith.  But  he  had 
used  the  word  in  the  sense  of  Steward. 

"  Why,  as  to  Steward,  you  see,"  returned  Mr.  Boffin, 
with  his  hand  still  to  his  chin,  "  the  odds  are  that  Mrs. 
Boffin  and  me  may  never  go  upon  the  water.  Being  both 
bad  sailors,  we  should  want  a  Steward  if  we  did  ;  but 
there's  generally  one  provided." 

Mr.  Rokesmith  again  explained  ;  defining  the  duties  he 
sought  to  undertake,  as  those  of  general  superintendent, 
or  manager,  or  overlooker,  or  man  of  business. 

"Now,  for  instance — come  !"  said  Mr.  Boffin,  in  his 
pouncing  way.  "  If  you  entered  my  employment,  what 
would  you  do  ?" 

"  I  would  keep  exact  accounts  of  all  the  expenditure 
you  sanctioned,  Mr.  Boffin.  I  would  write  your  letters, 
under  your  direction.  I  would  transact  your  business 
with  people  in  your  pay  or  employment.  I  would,"  with 
a  glance  and  a  half-smile  at  the  table,  "  arrange  your 
papers — " 

Mr.  Boffin  rubbed  his  inky  ear,  and  looked  at  his  wife. 

"  — And  so  arrange  them  as  to  have  them  always  in 
order  for  immediate  reference,  with  a  note  of  the  contents 
of  each  outside  it." 

"  I  tell  you  what,"  said  Mr.  Boffin,  slowly  crumpling  his 
own  blotted  note  in  his  hand  ;  "if  you'll  turn  to  at  these 
present  papers,  and  see  what  you  cau  make  of  'em,  I  shall 
know  better  what  I  can  make  of  you." 

No  sooner  said  than  done.    Relinquishing  his  hat  and 


270  OUR  MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

gloves,  Mr.  Rokesmith  sat  down  quietly  at  the  table,  ar- 
ranged the  open  papers  into  an  orderly  heap,  cast  his  eyes 
over  each  in  succession,  folded  it,  docketed  it  on  the  out- 
side, laid  it  in  a  second  heap,  and  when  that  second  heap 
was  complete  and  the  first  gone,  took  from  his  pocket  a 
piece  of  string  and  tied  it  together  with  a  remarkably  dex- 
trous hand  at  a  running  curve  and  a  loop. 

"  Good  !"  said  Mr.  Boffin.  "  Very  good  !  Now  let 
us  hear  what  they're  all  about ;  will  you  be  so  good  ?" 

John  Rokesmith  read  his  abstracts  aloud.  They  were 
all  about  the  new  house.  Decorator's  estimate,  so  much. 
Furniture  estimate,  so  much.  Estimate  for  furniture  of 
offices,  so  much.  Coach-maker's  estimate,  so  much. 
Horse-dealer's  estimate,  so  much.  Harness-maker's  esti- 
mate, so  much.  Goldsmith's  estimate,  so  much.  Total, 
so  very  much.  Then  came  correspondence.  Acceptance 
of  Mr.  Boffin's  offer  of  such  a  date,  and  to  such  an  effect. 
Rejection  of  Mr.  Boffin's  proposal  of  such  a  date,  and  to 
such  an  effect.  Concerning  Mr.  Boffin's  scheme  of  such 
another  date  to  such  another  effect.  All  compact  and 
methodical. 

"  Apple-pie  order  !"  said  Mr.  Boffin,  after  checking 
off  each  inscription  with  his  hand,  like  a  man  beating 
time.  "  And  whatever  you  do  with  your  ink,  I  can't 
think,  for  you're  as  clean  as  a  whistle  after  it.  Now,  as 
to  a  letter.  Let's,"  said  Mr.  Boffin,  rubbing  his  hands  in 
his  pleasantly  childish  admiration,  "  let's  try  a  letter 
next." 

11  To  whom  shall  it  be  addressed,  Mr.  Boffin  ?" 

"  Any  one.     Yourself." 

Mr.  Rokesmith  quickly  wrote,  and  then  read  aloud  : 

" '  Mr.  Boffin  presents  his  compliments  to  Mr.  John 


.    OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  271 

Rokesinith,  and  begs  to  say  that  he  has  decided  on  giving 
Mr.  John  Rokesmith  a  trial  in  the  capacity  he  desires  to 
fill.  Mr.  Boffin  takes  Mr.  John  Rokesmith  at  his  word, 
in  postponing  to  some  indefinite  period  the  consideration 
of  salary.  It  is  quite  understood  that  Mr.  Boffiu  is  in  no 
way  committed  on  that  point.  Mr.  Boffin  has  merely  to 
add,  that  he  relies  on  Mr.  John  Rokesmith' s  assurance 
that  he  will  be  faithful  and  serviceable.  Mr.  John  Roke- 
smith will  please  enter  on  his  duties  immediately.'  " 

"  Well  !  Now,  Noddy  !"  cried  Mrs.  Boffin,  clapping 
her  hands,  M  That  is  a  good  one  I" 

Mr.  Boffin  was  no  less  delighted  ;  indeed,  in  his  own 
bosom,  he  regarded  both  the  composition  itself  and  the 
device  that  had  given  birth  to  it,  as  a  very  remarkable 
monument  of  human  ingenuity. 

"  And  I  tell  you,  my  deary,"  said  Mrs.  Boffin,  "  that 
if  you  don't  close  with  Mr.  Rokesmith  now  at  once,  and 
if  you  ever  go  a  muddling  yourself  again  with  things 
never  meant  nor  made  for  you,  you'll  have  an  apoplexy 
— besides  iron-moulding  your  linen — and  you'll  break  my 
heart." 

Mr.  Boffiu  embraced  his  spouse  for  these  words  of  wis- 
dom, and  then,  congratulating  John  Rokesmith  on  the 
brilliancy  of  his  achievements,  gave  him  his  hand  in  pledge 
of  their  new  relations.     So  did  Mrs.  Boffin. 

11  Now,"  said  Mr.  Boffin,  who  in  his  frankness,  felt  that 
it  did  not  become  him  to  have  a  gentleman  in  his  employ- 
ment five  minutes  without  reposing  some  confidence  in 
him,  "  you  must  be  let  a  little  more  into  our  affairs,  Roke- 
smith. I  mentioned  to  you,  when  I  made  your  acquaint- 
ance, or  I  might  better  say  when  you  made  mine,  that 
Mrs.  Boffin's  inclinations  was  setting  in  the  way  of  Fash- 


272  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

ion,  but  that  I  didn't  know  how  fashionable  we  might  or 
might  not  grow.  Well  !  Mrs.  Boffin  has  carried  the  day, 
and  we're  going  in  neck  and  crop  for  Fashion." 

"  I  rather  inferred  that,  Sir,"  replied  John  Rokesmith, 
"  from  the  scale  on  which  your  new  establishment  is  to  be 
maintained." 

"Yes,"  said  Mr.  Boffin,  "it's  to  be  a  Spanker.  The 
fact  is,  my  literary  man  named  to  me  that  a  house  with 
which  he  is,  as  I  may  say,  connected — in  which  he  has  an 
interest — " 

"  As  property  ?"  inquired  John  Rokesmith. 

"  Why  no,"  said  Mr.  Boffin,  "not  exactly  that  ;  a  sort 
of  a  family  tie." 

"  Association  ?"   the  Secretary  suggested. 

"Ah!"  said  Mr.  Boffin.  "Perhaps.  Anyhow,  he 
named  to  me  that  the  house  had  a  board  up,  *  This  Emi- 
nently Aristocratic  Mansion  to  be  let  or  sold.'  Me  and 
Mrs.  Boffin  went  to  look  at  it,  and  finding  it  beyond  a 
doubt  Eminently  Aristocratic  (though  a  trifle  high  and 
dull,  which  after  all  may  be  part  of  the  same  thing)  took 
it.  My  literary  man  was  so  friendly  as  to  drop  into  a 
charming  piece  of  poetry  on  that  occasion,  in  which  he 
complimented  Mrs.  Boffin  on  coming  into  possession  of — 
how  did  it  go,  my  dear  ?" 

Mrs.  Boffin  replied  : 

"  '  The  gay,  the  gay  and  festive  scene, 
The  halls,  the  halls  of  dazzling  light.'  " 

"  That's  it !  And  it  was  made  neater  by  there  really 
being  two  halls  in  the  house,  a  front  'un  and  a  back  'un, 
besides  the  servants'.  He  likewise  dropped  into  a  very 
pretty  piece  of  poetry  to  be  sure,  respecting  the  extent  to 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  273 

which  he  would  be  willing  to  put  himself  out  of  the  way 
to  bring  Mrs.  Boffin  round,  in  case  she  should  ever  get 
low  in  her  spirits  in  the  house.  Mrs.  Boffin  has  a  won- 
derful memory.     Will  you  repeat  it,  my  dear  ?" 

Mrs.  Boffin  complied,  by  reciting  the  verses  in  which 
this  obliging  offer  had  been  made,  exactly  as  she  had  re- 
ceived them. 

"  '  I'll  tell  thee  how  the  maiden  wept,  Mrs.  Boffin, 

"  When  her  true  love  was  slain,  ma'am, 

"  And  how  her  broken  spirit  slept,  Mrs.  Boffin, 

"  And  never  woke  again,  ma'am. 

"  I'll  tell  thee  (if  agreeable  to  Mr.  Boffin)  how  the  steed  drew  nigh, 

"  And  left  his  lord  afar  ; 

"  And  if  my  tale  (which  I  hope  Mr.  Boffin  might  excuse)  should  make 

you  sigh, 
"  I'll  strike  the  light  guitar.'  " 

"  Correct  to  the  letter  !"  said  Mr.  Boffin.  "  And  I 
consider  that  the  poetry  brings  us  both  in,  in  a  beautiful 
manner." 

The  effect  of  the  poem  on  the  Secretary  being  evi- 
dently to  astonish  him,  Mr.  Boffin  was  confirmed  in  his 
high  opinion  of  it,  and  was  greatly  pleased. 

"  Now,  you  see,  Ilokesmith,"  he  went  on,  "  a  literary 
man — with  a  wooden  leg — is  liable  to  jealousy.  I  shall 
therefore  cast  about  for  comfortable  ways  and  means  of 
not  calling  up  Wegg's  jealousy,  but  of  keeping  you  in 
your  department,  and  keeping  him  in  his." 

"Lor!"  cried  Mrs.  Boffin.  "What  I  say  is,  the 
world's  wide  enough  for  all  of  us  !" 

"  So  it  is,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Boffin,  "  when  not  lite- 
rary. But  when  so,  not  so.  And  I  am  bound  to  bear 
in  mind  that  I  took  Wegg  on  at  a  time  when  I  had  no 


274  OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 

thought  of  being  fashionable  or  of  leaving  the  Bower. 
To  let  him  feel  himself  any  ways  slighted  now  would  be 
to  be  guilty  of  a  meanness,  and  to  act  like  having  one's 
head  turned  by  the  halls  of  dazzling  light.  Which  Lord 
forbid  !  Rokesmith,  what  shall  we  say  about  your  living 
in  the  house  V* 

11  In  this  house  ?» 

"  No,  no.  I  have  got  other  plans  for  this  house.  In 
the  new  house  ?" 

"That  will  be  as  you  please,  Mr.  Boffiu.  I  hold  my- 
self quite  at  your  disposal.  You  know  where  I  live  at 
present." 

"  Well  !"  said  Mr.  Boffin,  after  considering  the  point ; 
"  suppose  you  keep  as  you  are  for  the  present,  and  we'll 
decide  by-and-by.  You'll  begin  to  take  charge  at  once, 
of  all  that's  going  on  in  the  new  house,  will  you  ?" 

"  Most  willingly.  I  will  begin  this  very  day.  Will 
you  give  me  the  address  ?" 

Mr.  Boffiu  repeated  it,  and  the  Secretary  wrote  it 
down  in  his  pocket-book.  Mrs.  Boffiu  took  the  oppor- 
tunity of  his  being  so  engaged  to  get  a  better  observation 
of  his  face  than  she  had  yet  taken.  It  impressed  her  iu 
his  favor,  for  she  nodded  aside  to  Mr.  Boffiu,  "  I  like 
him." 

"  I  will  see  directly  that  everything  is  in  train,  Mr. 
Boffin." 

"  Thank'ee.  Being  here,  would  you  care  at  all  to  look 
round  the  Bower?'7 

"  I  should  greatly  like  it.  I  have  heard  so  much  of  its 
story." 

"  Come  !"  said  Mr.  Boffin.  And  he  and  Mrs.  Boffiu 
led  the  way. 


OUR   MUTUAL  FRIEND.  275 

A  gloomy  house  the  Bower,  with  sordid  signs  on  it  of 
having  been,  through  its  long  existence  as  Harmony  Jail, 
in  miserly  holding.  Bare  of  paint,  bare  of  paper  on  the 
walls,  bare  of  furniture,  bare  of  experience  of  human  life. 
Whatever  is  built  by  man  for  man's  occupation,  must,  like 
natural  creations,  fulfill  the  intention  of  its  existence  or 
soon  perish.  This  old  house  had  wasted  more  from  desue- 
tude than  it  would  have  wasted  from  use,  twenty  years 
for  one. 

A  certain  leanness  falls  upon  houses  not  sufficiently  im- 
bued with  life  (as  if  they  were  nourished  upon  it),  which 
was  very  noticeable  here.  The  staircase,  balustrades,  and 
rails  had  a  spare  look — an  air  of  being  denuded  to  the 
bone — which  the  panels  of  the  walls  and  the  jambs  of  the 
doors  and  windows  also  bore.  The  scanty  movables  par- 
took of  it ;  save  for  the  cleanliness  of  the  place,  the  dust 
into  which  they  were  all  resolving  would  have  lain  thick 
on  the  floors  ;  and  those,  both  in  color  and  in  grain,  were 
worn  like  old  faces  that  had  kept  much  alone. 

The  bedroom  where  the  clutching  old  man  had  lost  his 
grip  on  life  was  left  as  he  had  left  it.  There  was  the  old 
grisly  four-post  bedstead,  without  hangings,  and  with  a 
jail-like  upper  rim  of  iron  and  spikes  ;  and  there  was  the 
old  patch-work  counterpane.  There  was  the  tight-clenched 
old  bureau,  receding  atop  like  a  bad  and  secret  forehead  ; 
there  was  the  cumbersome  old  table  with  twisted  legs  at 
the  bedside  ;  and  there  was  the  box  upon  it,  in  which  the 
will  had  lain.  A  few  old  chairs  with  patch-work  covers, 
under  which  the  more  precious  stuff  to  be  preserved  bad 
slowly  lost  its  quality  of  color  without  imparting  pleasure 
to  any  eye,  stood  against  the  wall.  A  hard  family  like- 
ness was  on  all  these  things. 


276  OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 

"  The  room  was  kept  like  this,  Bokesmith,"  said  Mr. 
Boffin,  "  against  the  son's  return.  In  short,  everything 
in  the  house  was  kept  exactly  as  it  came  to  us  for  him  to 
see  and  approve.  Even  now,  nothing  is  changed  but  our 
own  room  below  stairs  that  you  have  just  left.  When 
the  son  came  home  for  the  last  time  in  his  life,  and  for  the 
last  time  in  his  life  saw  his  father,  it  was  most  likely  in 
this  room  that  they  met." 

As  the  Secretary  looked  all  round  it  his  eyes  rested  on 
a  side-door  in  a  corner. 

"  Another  staircase,"  said  Mr.  Boffin,  unlocking  the 
door,  "  leading  down  into  the  yard.  We'll  go  down  this 
way,  as  you  may  like  to  see  the  yard,  and  it's  all  in  the 
road.  When  the  son  was  a  little  child  it  was  up  and 
down  these  stairs  that  he  mostly  came  and  went  to  his 
father.  He  was  very  timid  of  his  father.  I've  seen  him 
sit  on  these  stairs,  in  his  shy  way,  poor  child,  many  a  time. 
Me  and  Mrs.  Boffin  have  comforted  him,  sitting  with  his 
little  book  on  these  stairs,  often." 

"  Ah  1  And  his  poor  sister  too,"  said  Mrs.  Boffin. 
"  And  here's  the  sunny  place  on  the  white  wall  where 
they  one  day  measured  one  another.  Their  own  little 
hands  wrote  up  their  names  here  only  with  a  pencil ;  but 
the  names  are  here  still,  and  the  poor  dears  gone  for- 
ever." 

"  We  must  take  care  of  the  names,  old  lady,"  said  Mr. 
Boffin.  "  We  must  take  care  of  the  names.  They  sha'n't 
be  rubbed  out  in  our  time,  nor  yet,  if  we  can  help  it,  in 
the  time  after  us.     Poor  little  children  I" 

"  Ah,  poor  little  children  !"  said  Mrs.  Boffin. 

They  had  opened  the  door  at  the  bottom  of  the  stair- 
case giving  on  the  yard,  and  they  stood  in  the  sunlight, 


OUR  MUTUAL   FRIEND.  277 

looking  at.  the  scrawl  of  the  two  unsteady  childish  hands 
two  or  three  steps  up  the  staircase.  There  was  something 
in  this  simple  memento  of  a  blighted  childhood,  and  in 
the  tenderness  of  Mrs.  Boffin,  that  touched  the  Secre- 
tary. 

Mr.  Boffin  then  showed  his  new  man  of  business  the 
Mounds,  and  his  own  particular  Mound  which  had  been 
left  him  as  his  legacy  under  the  will  before  he  acquired 
the  whole  estate. 

"  It  would  have  been  enough  for  us,"  said  Mr.  Boffin, 
"  in  case  it  had  pleased  God  to  spare  the  last  of  those 
two  young  lives  and  sorrowful  deaths.  We  didn't  want 
the  rest." 

At  the  treasures  of  the  yard,  and  at  the  outside  of  the 
house,  and  at  the  detached  building  which  Mr.  Boffin 
pointed  out  as  the  residence  of  himself  and  his  wife  during 
the  many  years  of  their  service,  the  Secretary  looked  with 
interest.  It  was  not  until  Mr.  Boffin  had  shown  him 
every  wonder  of  the  Bower  twice  over  that  he  remem- 
bered his  having  duties  to  discharge  elsewhere. 

"  You  have  no  instructions  to  give  me,  Mr.  Boffin,  in 
reference  to  this  place  f 

"  Not  any,  Rokesmith.     ]NTo." 

"  Might  I  ask,  without  seeming  impertinent,  whether 
you  have  any  intention  of  selling  it  ?" 

"  Certaiuly  not.  In  remembrance  of  our  old  master, 
our  old  master's  children,  and  our  old  service,  me  and 
Mrs.  Boffin  mean  to  keep  it  up  as  it  stands." 

The  Secretary's  eyes  glanced  with  so  much  meaning  in 
them  at  the  Mounds  that  Mr.  Boffin  said,  as  if  in  answer 
to  a  remark  : 

"  Ay,  ay,  that's  another  thing.    I  may  sell  them,  though 


278  OUR   MUTUAL    FRIEND. 

I  should  be  sorry  to  see  the  neighborhood  deprived  of  'em 
too.  It'll  look  but  a  poor  dead  flat  without  the  Mounds. 
Still  I  don't  say  that  I'm  going  to  keep  'em  always  there 
for  the  sake  of  the  beauty  of  the  landscape.  There's  no 
hurry  about  it ;  that's  all  I  say  at  present.  I  ain't  a 
scholar  in  much,  Rokesmith,  but  I'm  a  pretty  fair  scholar 
in  dust.  I  can  price  'the  Mounds  to  a  fraction,  and  I 
know  how  they  can  be  best  disposed  of,  and  likewise  that 
they  take  no  harm  by  standing  where  they  do.  You'll 
look  in  to-morrow,  will  you  be  so  kind  ?" 

"  Every  day.  And  the  sooner  I  can  get  you  into  your 
new  house,  complete,  the  better  you  will  be  pleased,  Sir  ?" 

"  Well,  it  ain't  that  I'm  in  a  mortal  hurry,"  said  Mr. 
Boffin  ;  "  only  when  you  do  pay  people  for  looking  alive, 
it's  as  well  to  know  that  they  are  looking  alive.  Ain't 
that  your  opinion  ?" 

"  Quite  !"  replied  the  Secretary  ;  and  so  withdrew. 

u  Now,"  said  Mr.  Boffin  to  himself,  subsiding  into  his 
regular  series  of  turns  in  the  yard,  "  if  I  can  make  it 
comfortable  with  Wegg,  my  affairs  will  be  going  smooth." 

The  man  of  low  cunning  had,  of  course,  acquired  a  mas- 
tery over  the  man  of  high  simplicity.  The  mean  man  had, 
of  course,  got  the  better  of  the  generous  man.  How  long 
such  conquests  last  is  another  matter  ;  that  they  are 
achieved,  is  everyday  experience,  not  even  to  be  flourished 
away  by  Podsuappery  itself.  The  undesigning  Boffin  had 
become  so  far  immeshed  by  the  wily  Wegg  that  his  mind 
misgave  him  he  was  a  very  designing  man  indeed  in  pur- 
posing to  do  more  for  Wegg.  It  seemed  to  him  (so  skill- 
ful was  Wegg)  that  he  was  plotting  darkly,  when  he  was 
contriving  to  do  the  very  thing  that  Wegg  was  plotting 
to  get  him  to  do.     And  thus,  while  he  was  mentally  turn- 


OTJR  MTTTUAL  FEIEND.  279 

ing  the  kindest  of  kind  faces  on  Wegg  this  morning,  he 
was  not  absolutely  sure  but  that  lie  might  somehow  de- 
serve the  charge  of  turning  his  back  on  him. 

For  these  reasons  Mr.  Boffin  passed  but  anxious  hours 
until  evening  came,  and  with  it  Mr.  Wegg,  stumping  lei- 
surely to  the  Roman  Empire.  At  about  this  period  Mr. 
Boffin  had  become  profoundly  interested  in  the  fortunes 
.of  a  great  military  leader  known  to  him  as  Bully  Sawyers, 
but  perhaps  better  known  to  fame  and  easier  of  identifica- 
tion by  the  classical  student,  under  the  less  Britannic 
name  of  Belisarius.  Even  this  general's  career  paled  in 
interest  for  Mr.  Boffin  before  the  clearing  of  his  conscience 
with  Wegg  ;  and  hence,  when  that  literary  gentleman 
had  according  to  custom  eaten  and  drunk  until  he  was  all 
a-glow,  and  when  he  took  up  his  book  with  the  usual 
chirping  introduction,  "  And  now,  Mr.  Boffin,  Sir,  we'll 
decline  and  we'll  fall  1"  Mr.  Boffin  stopped  him. 

"  You  remember,  Wegg,  when  I  first  told  you  that  I 
wanted  to  make  a  sort  of  offer  to  you  ?" 

"  Let  me  get  on  my  considering  cap,  Sir,"  replied  that 
gentleman,  turning  the  open  book  face  downward. 
"  When  you  first  told  me  that  you  wanted  to  make  a  sort 
of  offer  to  me  ?  Now  let  me  think  "  (as  if  there  were  the 
least  necessity).  "  Yes,  to  be,  sure  I  do,  Mr.  Boffin.  It 
was  at  my  corner.  To  be  sure  it  was  !  You  had  first 
asked  me  whether  I  liked  your  name,  and  Candor  had 
compelled  a  reply  in  the  negative  case.  I  little  thought 
then,  Sir,  how  familiar  that  name  would  come  to  be  I" 

"  I  hope  it  will  be  more  familiar  still,  Wegg." 

"  Do  you,  Mr.  Boffin  ?  Much  obliged  to  you,  I'm  sure. 
Is  it  your  pleasure,  Sir,  that  we  decline  and  we  fall  V 
with  a  feint  of  taking  up  the  book. 

14 


2S0  OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 

"  Not  just  yet  a  while,  Wegg.  In  fact,  I  have  got  an- 
other offer  to  make  you.'7 

Mr.  Wegg  (who  had  had  nothing  else  in  his  mind  for 
several  nights)  took  off  his  spectacles  with  an  air  of  bland 
surprise. 

"  And  I  hope  you'll  like  it,  Wegg." 

"  Thank  you,  Sir,"  returned  that  reticent  individual. 
"  I  hope  it  may  prove  so.  On  all  accounts,  I  am  sure." 
(This,  as  a  philanthropic  aspiration.) 

"  What  do  you  think,"  said  Mr.  Boffin,  "  of  not  keep- 
ing a  stall,  Wegg  ?" 

"  I  think,  Sir,"  replied  Wegg,  "  that  I  should  like  to 
be  shown  the  gentleman  prepared  to  make  it  worth  my 
while  !" 

"  Here  he  is,"  said  Mr.  Boffin. 

Mr.  Wegg  was  going  to  say,  My  Benefactor,  and  had 
said  My  Bene,  when  a  grandiloquent  change  came  over 
him. 

"  No,  Mr.  Boffin,  not  you,  Sir.  Any  body  but  you. 
Do  not  fear,  Mr.  Boffin,  that  I  shall  contaminate  the  pre- 
mises which  your  gold  has  bought  with  my  lowly  pursuits. 
I  am  aware,  Sir,  that  it  would  not  become  me  to  carry  on 
my  little  traffic  under  the  windows  of  your  mansion.  I 
have  already  thought  of  that,  and  taken  my  measures. 
No  need  to  be  bought  out,  Sir.  Would  Stepney  Fields 
be  considered  intrusive  ?  If  not  remote  enough,  I  can  go 
remoter.  In  the  words  of  the  poet's  song,  which  I  do  not 
quite  remember  : 

Thrown  on  the  wide  world,  doom'd  to  wander  and  roam, 
Bereft  of  my  parents,  bereft  of  a  home, 
A  stranger  to  something  and  what's  his  name  joy, 
Behold  little  Edmund  the  poor  Peasant  boy. 


OUR  MUTUAL   FRIEND.  281 

— And  equally,"  said  Mr.  Wegg,  repairing  the  want  of 
direct  application  in  the  last  line,  "  behold  myself  on  a 
similar  footing  !" 

11  Now,  Wegg,  Wegg,  Wegg,"  remonstrated  the  excel- 
lent Boffin.     "  You  are  too  sensitive." 

"  I  know  I  am,  Sir,"  returned  Wegg,  with  obstinate 
magnanimity.  "I  am  acquainted  with  my  faults.  I  al- 
ways was,  from  a  child,  too  sensitive." 

"  But  listen,"  pursued  the  Golden  Dustman  ;  "  hear 
me  out,  Wegg.  You  have  taken  it  into  your  head  that  I 
mean  to  pension  you  off." 

"  True,  Sir,"  replied  Wegg,  still  with  an  obstinate  mag- 
nanimity. "I  am  acquainted  with  my  faults.  Far  be  it 
from  me  to  deny  them.     I  have  taken  it  into  my  head." 

"  But  I  don't  mean  it." 

The  assurance  seemed  hardly  as  comforting  to  Mr. 
Wegg  as  Mr.  Boffin  intended  it  to  be.  Indeed,  an  ap- 
preciable elongation  of  his  visage  might  have  been  ob- 
served as  he  replied  : 

"  Don't  you  indeed,  Sir  V 

"  No,"  pursued  Mr.  Boffin  ;  "  because  that  would  ex- 
press, as  I  understand  it,  that  you  were  not  going  to  do 
any  thing  to  deserve  your  money.     But  you  are  ;  you  are." 

"  That,  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Wegg,  cheering  up  bravely, 
"  is  quite  another  pair  of  shoes.  Now  my  independence 
as  a  man  is  again  elevated.     Now,  I  no  longer 

Weep  for  the  hour, 

When  to  Boffinses  bower, 

The  Lord  of  the  valley  with  offers  came ; 

Neither  does  the  moon  hide  her  light 

From  the  heavens  to-night, 

And  weep  behind  her  clouds  o'er  any  individual  in  the  present 

Company's  shame. 


282  OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 

— Please  to  proceed,  Mr.  Boffin." 

"  Thank'ee,  Wegg,  both  for  your  confidence  in  me  and 
for  your  frequent  dropping  into  poetry  ;  both  of  which  is 
friendly.  Well,  then  ;  my  idea  is,  that  you  should  give 
up  your  stall,  and  that  I  should  put  you  into  the  Bower 
here,  to  keep  it  for  us.  It's  a  pleasant  spot ;  and  a  man 
with  coals  and  candles  and  a  pound  a  week  might  be  in 
clover  here." 

"  Hem  !  Would  that  man,  Sir — we  will  say  that  man, 
for  the  purposes  of  argneyment ;"  Mr.  Wegg  made  a 
smiling  demonstration  of  great  perspicuity  here  ;  "  would 
that  man,  Sir,  be  expected  to  throw  any  other  capacity 
in,  or  would  any  other  capacity  be  considered  extra  ? 
Now  let  us  (for  the  purposes  of  argueyraent)  suppose  that 
man  to  be  engaged  as  a  reader  ;  say  (for  the  purposes  of 
argueyment)  in  the  evening.  Would  that  man's  pay  as  a 
reader  in  the  evening  be  added  to  the  other  amount, 
which,  adopting  your  language,  we  will  call  clover  ;  or 
would  it  merge  into  that  amount,  or  clover  ?" 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Boffin,  "  I  suppose  it  would  be 
added." 

11 1  suppose  it  would,  Sir.  You  are  right,  Sir.  Ex- 
actly my  own  views,  Mr.  Boffin."  Here  Wegg  rose,  and 
balancing  himself  on  his  wooden  leg,  fluttered  over  his  prey 
with  extended  hand.  "  Mr.  Boffin,  consider  it  done.  Say 
no  more,  Sir,  not  a  word  more.  My  stall  and  I  are  for 
ever  parted.  The  collection  of  ballads  will  in  future  be 
reserved  for  private  study,  with  the  object  of  making  poe- 
try tributary" — Wegg  was  so  proud  of  having  found  this 
word  that  he  said  it  again,  with  a  copital  letter — "  Tri- 
butary, to  friendship.  Mr.  Boffin,  don't  ollow  yourself  to 
be  made  uncomfortable  by  the  pang  it  gives  me  to  part 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  283 

from  my  stock  and  stall.  Similar  emotion  was  undergone 
by  my  own  father  when  promoted  for  bis  merits  from  his 
occupation  as  a  waterman  to  a  situation  under  Govern- 
ment. His  Christian  name  was  Thomas.  His  words  at 
the  time  (I  was  then  an  infant,  but  so  deep  was  their  im- 
pression on  me  that  I  committed  them  to  memory)  were  : 

Then  farewell  my  trim-built  wherry, 
Oars  and  coat  and  badsje  farewell ! 
Never  more  at  Chelsea  Ferry 
Shall  your  Thomas  take  a  spell ! 

— My  father  got  over  it,  Mr.  Boffin,  and  so  shall  I." 

While  delivering  these  valedictory  observations,  Wegg 
continually  disappointed  Mr.  Boffin  of  his  hand  by  flour- 
ishing it  in  the  air.  He  now  darted  it  at  his  patron,  who 
took  it,  and  felt  his  mind  relieved  of  a  great  weight :  ob- 
serving that  as  they  had  arranged  their  joint  affairs  so 
satisfactorily,  he  would  now  be  glad  to  look  into  those  of 
Bully  Sawyers.  Which,  indeed,  had  been  left  overnight 
in  a  very  unpromising  posture,  and  for  whose  impending 
expedition  against  the  Persians  the  weather  had  been  by 
no  means  favorable  all  day. 

Mr.  Wegg  resumed  his  spectacles  therefore.  But  Saw- 
yers was  not  to  be  of  the  party  that  night  ;  for,  before 
Wegg  had  found  his  place,  Mrs.  Boffin's  tread  was  heard 
upon  the  stairs,  so  unusually  heavy  and  hurried,  that  Mr. 
Boffin  would  have  started  up  at  the  sound,  anticipating 
some  occurrence  much  out  of  the  common  course,  even 
though  she  had  not  also  called  to  him  in  an  agitated 
tone. 

Mr.  Boffin  hurried  out,  and  found  her  on  the  dark 
staircase,  panting,  with  a  lighted  candle  in  her  hand. 

"  What's  the  matMr,  my  dear  ?" 


284  OUR   MUTUAL  FRIEND. 

"  I  don't  know  ;  I  don't  know  :  but  I  wish  you'd  come 
up  stairs." 

Much  surprised,  Mr.  Boffin  went  up  stairs  and  accom- 
panied Mrs.  Boffin  into  their  own  room  :  a  second  large 
room  on  the  same  floor  as  the  room  in  which  the  late  pro- 
prietor had  died.  Mr.  Boffin  looked  all  round  him,  and 
saw  nothing  more  unusual  than  various  articles  of  folded 
linen  on  a  large  chest,  which  Mrs.  Boffin  had  been 
sorting. 

"  What  is  it,  my  dear  ?  Why,  you'r  frightened  !  You 
frightened  ?" 

"Iain  not  one  of  that  sort  certainly,"  said  Mrs.  Boffin, 
as  she  sat  down  in  a  chair  to  recover  herself,  and  took 
her  husband's  arm  ;  but  it's  very  strange  !" 

"  What  is,  my  dear  ?" 

11  Noddy,  the  faces  of  the  old  man  and  the  two  children 
are  all  over  the  house  to-night." 

"  My  dear  ?"  exclaimed  Mr.  Boffin.  But  not  without 
a  certain  uncomfortable  sensation  gliding  down  his  back. 

"  I  know  it  must  sound  foolish,  and  yet  it  is  so." 

11  Where  did  you  think  you  saw  them  ?" 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  think  I  saw  them  anywhere.  I 
felt  them." 

"  Touched  them  ?" 

"  No.  Felt  them  in  the  air.  I  was  sorting  those 
things  on  the  chest,  and  not  thinking  of  the  old  man  or 
the  children,  but  singing  to  myself,  when  all  in  a  moment 
I  felt  there  was  a  face  growing  out  of  the  dark." 

"  What  face  ?"  asked  her  husband,  looking  about 
him. 

"  For  a  moment  it  was  the  old  man's,  and  then  it  got 
younger.     For  a  moment  it  was  both  the  children's,  and 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND.  •  285 

then  it  got  older.     For  a  moment  it  was  a  strange  face, 
and  then  it  was  all  the  faces." 

"  And  then  it  was  gone  V 

"  Yes  ;  and  then  it  was  gone." 

"  Where  were  you  then,  old  lady  ?" 

"  Here,  at  the  chest.  Well ;  I  got  the  better  of  it, 
and  went  on  sorting,  and  went  on  singing  to  myself. 
1  Lor  V  I  says,  '  I'll  think  of  something  else — something 
comfortable — and  put  it  out  of  my  head.'  So  I  thought 
of  the  new  house  and  Miss  Bella  Wilfer,  and  was  think- 
ing at  a  great  rate  with  that  sheet  there  in  my  hand, 
when,  all  of  a  sudden,  the  faces  seemed  to  be  hidden  in 
among  the  folds  of  it  and  I  let  it  drop." 

As  it  still  lay  on  the  floor  where  it  had  fallen,  Mr. 
Boffin  picked  it  up  and  laid  it  on  the  chest. 

"  And  then  you  ran  down  stairs  ?" 

"  No.  I  thought  I'd  try  another  room,  and  shake  it 
off.  I  says  to  myself,  '  I'll  go  and  walk  slowly  up  and. 
down  the  old  man's  room  three  times,  from  end  to  end, 
and  then  I  shall  have  conquered  it.'  I  went  in  with  the 
candle  in  my  hand  ;  but  the  moment  I  came  near  the  bed 
the  air  got  thick  with  them." 

"  With  the  faces  ?" 

11  Yes,  and  I  even  felt  that  they  were  in  the  dark 
behind  the  side-door,  and  on  the  little  staircase,  floating 
away  into  the  yard.     Then  I  called  you." 

Mr.  Boffin,  lost  in  amazement,  looked  at  Mrs.  Boffin. 
Mrs.  Boffin,  lost  in  her  own  fluttered  inability  to  make 
this  out,  looked  at  Mr.  Boffin. 

"  I  think,  my  dear,"  said  the  Golden  Dustman,  "  I'll  at 
once  get  rid  of  Wegg  for  the  night,  because  he's  coming 
to  inhabit  the  Bower,  and  it  might  be  put  into  his  head 


286  •     OUR  MUTUAL  FKIEND. 

or  somebody  else's,  if  he  heard  this  and  it  got  about,  that 
the  house  is  haunted.  Whereas  we  know  better.  Don't 
we  f» 

"  I  never  had  the  feeling  in  the  house  before,"  said 
Mrs.  Boffin  ;  "  and  I  have  been  about  it  alone  at  all 
hours  of  the  night.  I  have  been  in  the  house  when  Death 
was  in  it,  and  I  have  been  in  the  house  when  Murder  was 
a  new  part  of  its  adventures,  and  I  never  had  a  fright  in 
it  yet." 

"  And  won't  again,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Boffin.  "  De- 
pend upon  it,  it  comes  of  thinking  and  dwelling  on  that 
dark  spot." 

"  Yes  ;  but  why  didn't  it  come  before  ?"  asked  Mrs. 
Boffin. 

This  draft  on  Mr.  Boffin's  philosophy  could  only  be  met 
by  that  gentleman  with  the  remark  that  every  thing  that 
is  at  all  must  begin  at  some  time.  Then,  tucking  his 
wife's  arm  under  his  own,  that  she  might  not  be  left  by 
herself  to  be  troubled  again,  he  descended  to  release 
Wegg.  Who,  being  something  drowsy  after  his  plentiful 
repast,  and  constitutionally  of  a  shirking  temperament, 
was  well  enough  pleased  to  stump  away,  without  doing 
what  he  had  come  to  do,  and  was  paid  for  doing. 

Mr.  Boffin  then  put  on  his  hat,  and  Mrs.  Boffin  her 
shawl ;  and  the  pair,  further  provided  with  a  bunch  of 
keys  and  a  lighted  lantern,  went  all  over  the  dismal 
house — dismal  every  where  but  in  their  own  two  rooms — 
from  cellar  to  cock-loft.  Not  resting  satisfied  with  giving 
that  much  chase  to  Mrs.  Boffin's  fancies,  they  pursued 
them  into  the  yard  and  outbuildings,  and  under  the 
Mounds.  And  setting  the  lantern,  when  all  was  done,  at 
the  foot  of  one  of  the  Mounds,  they  comfortably  trotted 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND.  287 

to  and  fro  for  an  evening  walk,  to  the  end  that  the 
murky  cobwebs  in  Mrs.  Boffin's  brain  might  be  blown 
away. 

"  There,  my  dear  1"  said  Mr.  Boffin  when  they  came 
in  to  supper.  "  That  was  the  treatment,  you  see.  Com- 
pletely worked  round,  haven't  you  ?" 

"  Yes,  deary,"  said  Mrs.  Boffin,  laying  aside  her  shawl. 
"  I'm  not  nervous  any  more.  I'm  not  a  bit  troubled  now. 
I'd  go  any  where  about  the  house  the  same  as  ever. 
But " 

"  Eh  I"  said  Mr.  Boffin. 

"  But  I've  only  to  shut  my  eyes." 

"  And  what  then  ?" 

"Why  then,"  said  Mrs.  Boffin,  speaking  with  her  eyes 
closed,  and  her  left  hand  thoughtfully  touching  her  brow, 
"  then,  there  they  are  !  The  old  man's  face,  and  it  gets 
younger.  The  two  children's  faces,  and  they  get  older. 
A  face  that  I  don't  know.     And  then  all  the  faces  !" 

Opening  her  eyes  again,  and  seeing  her  husband's  face 
across  the  table,  she  leaned  forward  to  give  it  a  pat  on 
the  cheek,  and  sat  down  to  supper,  declaring  it  to  be  the 
best  face  in  the  world. 


14* 


288  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

MINDERS    AND    RE-MINDERS. 

The  Secretary  lost  no  time  in  getting  to  work,  and  his 
vigilance  and  method  soon  set  their  mark  on  the  Golden 
Dustman's  affairs.  His  earnestness  In  determining  to  un- 
derstand the  length  and  breadth  and  depth  of  every  piece 
of  work  submitted  to  him  by  his  employer  was  as  special 
as  his  dispatch  in  transacting  it.  He  accepted  no  infor- 
mation or  explanation  at  second-hand,  but  made  himself 
the  master  of  everything  confided  to  him. 

One  part  of  the  Secretary's  conduct,  underlying  all  the 
rest,  might  have  been  mistrusted  by  a  man  with  a  better 
knowledge  of  men  than  the  Golden  Dustman  had.  The 
Secretary  was  as  far  fijm  being  inquisitive  or  intrusive  as 
Secretary  could  be,  but  nothing  less  than  a  complete  un- 
derstanding of  thy  whole  "of  the  affairs  would  content 
him.  It  soon  became  apparent  (from  the  knowledge 
with  which  he  set  out)  that  he  must  have  been  to  the 
office  where  the  Harmon  will  was  registered,  and  must 
bave  read  the  will.  He  anticipated  Mr.  Boffin's  con- 
sideration whether  he  should  be  advised  with  on  this  or 
that  topic,  by  showiug  that  he  already  knew  of  it  and  un- 
derstood it.  He  did  this  with  no  attempt  at  concealment, 
seeming  to  be  satisfied  that  it  was  part  of  his  duty  to 
have  prepared  himself  at  all  attainable  points  for  its  ut- 
most discharge. 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  289 

This  might — let  it  be  repeated — have  awakened  some 
little  vague  mistrust  in  a  man  more  worldly-wise  than  the 
Golden  Dustman.  On  the  other  hand,  the  Secretary  was 
discerning,  discreet,  and  silent,  though  as  zealous  as  if  the 
affairs  had  been  his  own.  He  showed  no  love  of  patron- 
age or  the  command  of  money,  but  distinctly  preferred  re- 
signing both  to  Mr.  Boffin.  If,  in  his  limited  sphere  he 
sought  power,  it  was  the  power  of  knowledge  ;  the  power 
derivable  from  a  perfect  comprehension  of  his  business. 

As  on  the  Secretary's  face  there  was  a  nameless  cloud, 
so  on  his  manner  there  was  a  shadow  equally  indefinable. 
It  was  not  that  he  was  embarrassed,  as  on  that  first  night 
with  the  Wilier  family  ;  he  was  habitually  unembarrassed 
now,  and  yet  the  something  remained.  It  was  not  that 
his  manner  was  bad,  as  on  that  occasion  ;  it  was  now 
very  good,  as  being  modest,  gracious  and  ready.  Yet 
the  something  never  left  it.  It  has  been  written  of  men 
who  have  uudergone  a  cruel  captivity,  or  who  have  passed 
through  a  terrible  strait,  or  who  in  self-preservation  have 
killed  a  defenceless  fellow-creature,  that  the  record  there- 
of has  never  faded  from  their  countenances  until  they 
died.     Was  there  any  such  record  here  ? 

He  established  a  temporary  office  for  himself  in  the 
new  house,  and  all  went  well  under  his  hand,  with  one 
singular  exception.  He  manifestly  objected  to  communi- 
cate with  Mr.  Boffin's  solicitor.  Two  or  three  times, 
when  there  was  some  slight  occasion  for  his  doing  so,  he 
transferred  the  task  to  Mr.  Boffin  ;  and  his  evasion  of  it 
soon  became  so  curiously  apparent,  that  Mr.  Boffin  spoke 
to  him  on  the  subject  of  his  reluctance. 

"  It  is  so,"  the  Secretary  admitted.  "  I  would  rather 
not." 


290  OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 

Had  he  any  personal  objection  to  Mr.  Lightwood  ? 

"  I  don't  know  him." 

Had  he  suffered  from  lawsuits  ? 

"  Not  more  than  other  men,"  was  his  short  answer. 

Was  he  prejudiced  against  the  race  of  lawyers  ? 

"  No.  But  while  I  am  in  your  employment,  Sir,  I 
would  rather  be  excused  from  going  between  the  lawyer 
and  the  client.  Of  course  if  you  press  it,  Mr.  Boffin,  I 
am  ready  to  comply.  But  I  should  take  it  as  a  great 
favor  if  you  would  not  press  it  without  urgent  occasion." 

Now,  it  •  could  not  be  said  that  there  was  urgent  oc- 
casion, for  Lightwood  retained  no  other  affairs  in  his 
hands  than  such  as  still  lingered  and  languished  about  the 
undiscovered  criminal,  and  such  as  arose  out  of  the  pur- 
chase of  the  house.  Many  other  matters  that  might  have 
traveled  to  him  now  stopped  short  at  the  Secretary,  un- 
der whose  administration  they  were  far  more  expeditiously 
and  satisfactorily  disposed  of  than  they  would  have  been 
if  they  had  got  into  young  Blight's  domain.  This  the 
Golden  Dustman  quite  understood.  Even  the  matter 
immediately  in  hand  was  of  very  little  moment  as  requir- 
ing personal  appearance  on  the  Secretary's  part,  for  it 
amounted  to  no  more  than  this  : — The  death  of  Hexam 
rendering  the  sweat  of  the  honest  man's  brow  unprofita- 
ble, the  honest  man  had  shufflingly  declined  to  moisten  his 
brow  for  nothing,  with  that  severe  exertion  which  is 
known  in  legal  circles  as  swearing  your  way  through  a 
stone-wall.  Consequently,  that  new  light  had  gone  sput- 
tering out.  But  the  airing  of  the  old  facts  had  led  some 
one  concerned  to  suggest  that  it  would  be  well  before 
they  were  reconsigned  to  their  gloomy  shelf — now  proba- 
bly forever — to  induce  or  compel  that  Mr.  Julius  Hanford 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  291 

to  reappear  and  be  questioned.  And  all  traces  of  Mr. 
Julius  Hartford  being  lost,  Lightwood  now  referred  to  his 
client  for  authority  to  seek  him  through  public  advertise- 
ment." 

"Does  your  objection  go  to  writing  to  Lightwood, 
Rokesmith  ?" 

"  Not  in  the  least,  Sir." 

"  Then  perhaps  you'll  -write  him  a  line,  and  say  he  is 
free  to  do  what  he  likes.     I  don't  think  it  promises." 

"  /don't  think  it  promises,"  said  the  Secretary. 

"  Still,  he  may  do  what  he  likes." 

"  I  will  write  immediately.  Let  me  thank  you  for  so 
considerately  yielding  to  my  disinclination.  It  may  seem 
less  unreasonable  if  I  avow  to  you  that  although  I  don't 
know  Mr.  Lightwood,  I  have  a  disagreeable  association 
connected  with  him.  It  is  not  his  fault ;  he  is  not  at  all 
to  blame  for  it,  and  does  not  even  know  my  name." 

Mr.  Boffin  dismissed  the  matter  with  a  nod  or  two. 
The  letter  was  written,  and  next  day  Mr.  Julius  Hand- 
ford  was  advertised  for.  He  was  requested  to  place  him- 
self in  communication  with  Mr.  Mortimer  Lightwood,  as 
a  possible  means  of  furthering  the  ends  of  justice,  and  a 
reward  was  offered  to  any  one  acquainted  with  his  where- 
about who  would  communicate  the  same  to  the  said  Mr. 
Mortimer  Lightwood  at  his  office  in  the  Temple.  Every 
day  for  six  weeks  this  advertisement  appeared  at  the  head 
of  all  the  newspapers,  and  every  day  for  six  weeks  the 
Secretary,  when  he  saw  it,  said  to  himself;  in  the  tone  in 
which  be  had  said  to  his  employer,  "  /don't  think  it  pro- 
mises !" 

Among  his  first  occupations  the  pursuit  of  that  orphan 
wanted  by  Mrs.  Boffin  held  a  conspicuous  place.     From 


292  OUK   MUTUAL   FKIEND. 

the  earliest  moment  of  bis  engagement  he  showed  a  par- 
ticular desire  to  please  her,  and,  knowing  her  to  have  this 
object  at  heart,  he  followed  it  up  with  unwearying  ala- 
crity and  interest. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Milvey  had  found  their  search  a  difficult 
one.  Either  an  eligible  orphan  was  of  the  wrong  sex 
(which  almost  always  happened),  or  was  too  old,  or  too 
young,  or  too  sickly,  or  too  dirty,  or  too  much  accustom- 
ed to  the  streets,  or  too  likely  to  run  away  ;  or  it  was 
found  impossible  to  complete  the  philanthropic  transac- 
tion without  buying  the  orphan.  For,  the  instant  it 
became  known  that  any  body  wauted  the  orphan,  up 
started  some  affectionate  relative  of  the  orphan  who  put  a 
price  upon  the  orphan's  head.  The  suddenness  of  an  or- 
phan's rise  in  the  market  was  not  to  be  paralleled  by  the 
maddest  records  of  the  Stock  Exchange.  He  would  be 
at  five  thousand  per  cent,  discount  out  at  nurse  making  a 
mud  pie  at  nine  in  the  morning,  and  (being  inquired  for) 
would  go  up  to  five  thousand  per  cent,  premium  before 
noon.  The  market  was  "  rigged"  in  various  artful  ways. 
Counterfeit  stock  got  into  circulation.  Parents  boldly 
represented  themselves  as  dead,  and  brought  their  orphans 
with  them.  Genuine  orphan  stock  was  surreptitiously 
withdrawn  from  the  market.  It  being  announced,  by 
emissaries  posted  for  the  purpose,  that  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Milvey  were  coming  down  the  court,  orphan  scrip  would 
be  instantly  concealed,  and  production  refused,  save  on  a 
condition  usually  stated  by  the  brokers  as  "  a  gallon  of 
beer."  Likewise,  fluctuations  of  a  wild  and  South-Sea 
nature  were  occasioned,  by  orphan-holders  keeping  back, 
and  then  rushing  into  the  market  a  dozen  together.  But 
the  uniform  principle  at  the  root  of  all  these  various  ope- 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  293 

rations  was  bargain  and  sale  ;  and  that  principle  could  not 
be  recognized  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Milvey. 

At  length  tidings  were  received  by  the  Reverend  Frank 
of  a  charming  orphan  to  be  found  at  Brentford.  One  of 
the  deceased  parents  (late  his  parishioners)  had  a  poor 
widowed  grandmother  in  that  agreeable  town,  and  she, 
Mrs.  Betty  Higden,  had  carried  off  the  orphan  with  ma- 
ternal care,  but  could  not  afford  to  keep  him. 

The  Secretary  proposed  to  Mrs.  Boffin,  either  to  go 
down  himself  and  take  a  preliminary  survey  of  this  or- 
phan, or  to  drive  her  down,  that  she  might  at  once  form 
her  own  opinion.  Mrs.  Boffin  preferring  the  latter  course, 
they  set  off  one  morning  in  a  hired  phaeton,  conveying 
the  hammer-headed  young  man  behind  them. 

The  abode  of  Mrs.  Betty  Higden  was  not  easy  to  find, 
lying  in  such  complicated  back  settlements  of  muddy 
Brentford,  that  they  left  their  equipage  at  the  sign  of  the 
Three  Magpies,  and  went  in  search  of  it  on  foot.  After 
many  inquiries  and  defeats,  there  was  pointed  out  to  them 
in  a  lane,  a  very  small  cottage  residence,  with  a  board 
across  the  open  doorway,  hooked  on  to  which  board  by 
the  arm-pits  was  a  young  gentleman  of  tender  years,  ang- 
ling for  mud  with  a  headless  wooden  horse  and  line.  In 
this  young  sportsman,  distinguished  by  a  crisply  curling 
auburn  head  and  a  bluff  countenance,  the  Secretary  de- 
scried the  orphan. 

It  unfortunately  happened  as  they  quickened  their  pace, 
that  the  orphan,  lost  to  considerations  of  personal  safety 
in  the  ardor  of  the  moment,  overbalanced  himself  and 
toppled  into  the  street.  Being  an  orphan  of  a  chubby 
conformation,  he  then  took  to  rolling,  and  had  rolled  into 
the  gutter  before  they  could  come  up.     Prom  the  gutter 


294  OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 

lie  was  rescued  by  John  Rokesmith,  and  thus  the  first 
meeting  with  Mrs.  Higden  was  inaugurated  by  the  awk- 
ward circumstance  of  their  being  in  possession — one 
would  say  at  first  sight  unlawful  possession — of  the  or- 
phan, upside  down  and  purple  in  the  countenance.  The 
board  across  the  doorway  too,  acting  as  a  trap  equally 
for  the  feet  of  Mrs.  Higden  coming  out,  and  the  feet  of 
Mrs.  Boffin  and  John  Rokesmith  going  in,  greatly  in- 
creased the  difficulty  of  the  situation  :  to  which  the  cries 
of  the  orphan  imparted  a  lugubrious  and  inhuman  cha- 
racter. 

At  first,  it  was  impossible  to  explain,  on  account  of  the 
orphan's  "  holding  his  breath  f  a  most  terrific  proceed- 
ing, superinducing  in  the  orphan  lead-color  rigidity  and  a 
deadly  silence,  compared  with  which  his  cries  were  music 
yielding  the  height  of  enjoyment.  But  as  he  gradually 
recovered,  Mrs.  Boffin  gradually  introduced  herself,  and 
smiling  peace  was  gradually  wooed  back  to  Mrs.  Betty 
Jligden's  home. 

It  was  then  perceived  to  be  a  small  home  with  a  large 
mangle  in  it,  at  the  handle  of  which  machine  stood  a  very 
long  boy,  with  a  very  little  head,  and  an  open  mouth  of 
disproportionate  capacity  that  seemed  to  assist  his  eyes  in 
staring  at  the  visitors.  In  a  corner  below  the  mangle,  on 
a  couple  of  stools,  sat  two  very  little  children  :  a  boy  and 
a  girl  ;  and  when  the  very  long  boy,  in  an  interval  of 
staring,  took  a  turn  at  the  mangle,  it  was  alarming  to  see 
how  it  lunged  itself  at  those  two  innocents,  like  a  catapult 
designed  for  their  destruction,  harmlessly  retiring  when 
within  an  inch  of  their  heads.  The  room  was  clean  and 
neat.  It  had  a  brick  floor,  and  a  window  of  diamond 
panes,  and  a  flounce  hanging  below  the  chimney-piece, 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  295 

and  strings  nailed  from  bottom  to  top  outside  the  window- 
on  which  scarlet  beans  were  to  grow  in  the  coming  season 
if  the  Fates  were  propitious.  However  propitious  they 
might  have  been  in  the  seasons  that  were  gone  to  Betty 
Higden  in  the  matter  of  beans,  they  had  not  been  very 
favorable  in  the  matter  of  coins  ;  for  it  was  easy  to  see 
that  she  was  poor. 

She  was  one  of  those  old  women,  was  Mrs.  Betty 
Higden,  who  by  dint  of  an  indomitable  purpose  and  a 
strong  constitution  fight  out  many  years,  though  each 
year  has  come  with  its  new  knock-down  blows  fresh  to 
the  fight  against  her,  wearied  by  it ;  an  active  old  woman, 
with  a  bright  dark  eye  and  a  resolute  face,  yet  quite  a 
tender  creature  too  ;  not  a  logically-reasoning  woman,  but 
God  is  good,  and  hearts  may  count  in  Heaven  as  high  as 
heads. 

"  Yes  sure  !w  said  she,  when  the  business  was  opened, 
"  Mrs.  Milvey  had  the  kindness  to  write  to  me,  ma'am, 
and  I  got  Sloppy  to  read  it.  It  was  a  pretty  letter. 
•But  she's  an  affable  lady." 

The  visitors  glanced  at  the  long  boy,  who  seemed  to 
indicate  by  a  broader  stare  of  his  mouth  and  eyes  that  iu 
him  Sloppy  stood  confessed. 

"  For  I  ain't,  you  must  know,"  said  Betty,  "  much  of 
a  hand  at  reading  writing-hand,  though  I  can  read  my 
Bible  and  most  print.  And  I  do  love  a  newspaper. 
You  mightn't  think  it,  but  Sloppy  is  a  beautiful  reader  of 
a  newspaper.     He  do  the  Police  in  different  voices." 

The  visitors  again  considered  it  a  point  of  politeness  to 
look  at  Sloppy,  who,  looking  at  them,  suddenly  threw 
back  his  head,  extended  his  mouth  to  its  utmost  width, 
and  laughed  loud  and  long.     At  this  the  two  innocents, 


296  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

with  their  brains  in  that  apparent  clanger,  laughed,  and 
Mrs.  Higden  laughed,  and  the  orphan  laughed,  and  then 
the  visitors  laughed.  Which  was  more  cheerful  than  in- 
telligible. 

Then  Sloppy  seeming  to  be  seized  with  an  industrious 
mania  of  fury,  turned  to  at  the  mangle,  and  impelled  it  at 
the  heads  of  the  innocents  with  such  a  creaking  and  rum- 
bling that  Mrs.  Higden  stopped  him. 

11  The  gentlefolks  can't  hear  themselves  speak,  Sloppy. 
Bide  a  bit,  bide  a  bit  I" 

"  Is  that  the  dear  child  in  your  lap  ?"  said  Mrs.  Boffin. 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  this  is  Johnny." 

"  Johnny,  too  !"  cried  Mrs.  Boffin,  turning  to  the 
Secretary  ;  "  already  Johnny  !  Only  one  of  the  two 
names  left  to  give  him  !     He's  a  pretty  boy." 

With  his  chin  tucked  down  in  his  shy  childish  manner, 
he  was  looking  furtively  at  Mrs.  Boffin  out  of  his  blue- 
eyes,  and  reaching  his  fat  dimpled  hand  up  to  the  lips  of 
the  old  woman,  who  was  kissing  it  by  times. 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  he's  a  pretty  boy,  he's  a  dear  darling 
boy,  he's  the  child  of  my  own  last  left  daughter's  daugh- 
ter.    But  she's  gone  the  way  of  all  the  rest." 

"  Those  are  not  his  brother  and  sister  ?"  said  Mrs. 
Boffin. 

"  Oh,  dear  no,  ma'am.     Those  are  Minders." 

"  Minders  ?"  the  Secretary  repeated. 

"  Left  to  be  Minded,  Sir.  I  keep  a  Minding-School. 
I  can  take  only  three,  on  account  of  the  Mangle.  But  I 
love  children,  and  Four-pence  a  week  is  Four-pence. 
Come  here,  Toddles  and  Poddies." 

Toddles  was  the  pet-name  of  the  boy  ;  Poddies  of  the 
girl.     At  their  little  unsteady  pace  they  came  across  the 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  297 

floor,  hand  in  hand,  as  if  they  were  traversing  an  ex- 
tremely difficult  road  intersected  by  brooks,  and,  when 
they  had  had  their  heads  patted  by  Mrs.  Betty  Higden, 
made  lunges  at  the  orphan,  dramatically  representing  an 
attempt  to  bear  him,  crowing,  into  captivity  and  slavery. 
All  the  three  children  enjoyed-  this  to  a  delightful  extent, 
and  the  sympathetic  Sloppy  again  laughed  long  aud  loud. 
When  it  was  discreet  to  stop  the  play,  Betty  Higden  said 
"  Go  to  your  seats,  Toddles  and  Poddies,"  and  they  re- 
turned hand  in  hand  across-country,  seeming  to  find  the 
brooks  rather  swollen  by  late  rains. 

"  And  Master — or  Mister — Sloppy  !"  said  the  Secre- 
tary, in  doubt  whether  he  was  man,  boy,  or  what. 

"  A  love-child,"  returned  Betty  Higden,  dropping  her 
voice  ;  "  parents  never  known  ;  found  in  the  street.  He 
was  brought  up  in  the — "  with  a  shiver  of  repugnance, 
"  —  the  House." 

"  The  Poor-house  ?"  said  the  Secretary. 

Mrs.  Higden  set  that  resolute  old  face  of  hers,  and 
darkly  nodded  yes. 

"  You  dislike  the  mention  of  it." 

"  Dislike  the  mention  of  it  ?"  answered  the  old  woman. 
"  Kill  me  sooner  than  take  me  there.  Throw  this  pretty 
child  under  cart-horses'  feet  and  a  loaded  wagon  sooner 
than  take  him  there.  Come  to  us  and  find  us  all  a-dyiug, 
and  set  a  light  to  us  all  where  we  lie,  and  let  us  all  blaze 
away  with  the  house  into  a  heap  of  cinders,  sooner  than 
move  a  corpse  of  us  there  !" 

A  surprising  spirit  in  this  lonely  woman  after  so  many 
years  of  hard  working,  and  hard  living,  my  Lords  and 
Gentlemen  and  Honorable  Boards  !  What  is  it  that  we 
call  it  in  our  grandiose  speeches  ?     British  independence, 


298  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

rather  perverted  ?  Is  that,  or  something  like  it,  the  ring 
of  the  cant  ? 

"Dol  never  read  in  the  newspapers,"  said  the  dame, 
fondling  the  child — "  God  help  me  and  the  like  of  me  ! — 
how  the  worn-out  people  that  do  come  down  to  that,  get 
driven  from  post  to  pillar  and  pillar  to  post,  a-purpose  to 
tire  them  out !  Do  I  never  read  how  they  are  put  off, 
put  off,  put  off — how  they  are  grudged,  grudged,  grudged, 
the  shelter,  or  the  doctor,  or  the  drop  of  physic,  or  the 
bit  of  bread  ?  Do  I  never  read  how  they  grow  heart-sick 
of  it  and  give  it  up,  after  having  let  themselves  drop  so 
low,  and  how  they  after  all  die  out  for  want  of  help  ? 
Then  I  say,  I  hope  I  can  die  as  well  as  another,  and  I'll 
die  without  that  disgrace." 

Absolutely  impossible,  my  Lords  and  Gentlemen  and 
Honorable  Boards,  by  any  stretch  of  legislative  wisdom 
to  set  these  perverse  people  right  in  their  logic  ? 

"  Johnny,  my  pretty,"  continued  old  Betty,  caressiug 
the  child,  and  rather  mourning  over  it  than  speaking  to 
it,  "  your  old  Granny  Betty  is  nigher  fourscore  year  than 
threescore  and  ten .  She  never  begged  nor  had  a  penny 
of  the  Union  money  in  all  her  life.  She  paid  scot  and 
she  paid  lot  when  she  had  money  to  pay  ;  she  worked 
when  she  could,  and  she  starved  when  she  must.  You 
pray  that  your  Granny  may  have  strength  enough  left 
her  at  the  last  (she's  strong  for  an  old  one,  Johnny),  to 
get  up  from  her  bed  and  run  and  hide  herself,  and  swown 
to  death  in  a  hole,  sooner  than  fall  into  the  hands  of  those 
Cruel  Jacks  wre  read  of,  that  dodge  and  drive,  and  worry 
and  weary,  and  scorn  and  shame,  the  decent  poor." 

A  brilliant  success,  my  Lords  and  Gentlemen  and 
Honorable  Boards,   to  have  brought  it  to  this  in  the 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  299 

minds  of  the  best  of  the  poor  !  Under  submission,  might 
it  be  worth  thinking  of,  at  any  odd  time  ? 

The  fright  and  abhorrence  that  Mrs.  Betty  Iligden 
smoothed  out  of  her  strong  face  as  she  ended  this  diver- 
sion showed  how  seriously  she  had  meant  it. 

"  And  does  he  work  for  you  ?"  asked  the  Secretary, 
gently  bringing  the  discourse  back  to  Master  or  Mister 
Sloppy. 

"  Yes,"  said  Betty,  with  a  good-humored  smile  and  nod 
of  the  head.     "  And  well  too." 

"  Does  he  live  here  ?" 

11  He  lives  more  here  than  any  where.  He  was  thought 
to  be  no  better  than  a  Natural,  and  first  come  to  me  as 
a  Minder.  I  made  interest  with  Mr.  Blogg  the  Beadle 
to  have  him  as  a  Minder,  seeing  him  by  chance  up  at 
church,  and  thinking  I  might  do  something  with  him. 
For  he  was  a  weak  rickety  creetur  then." 

"  Is  he  called  by  his  right  name  ?" 

11  Why,  you  see,  speaking  quite  correctly,  he  has  uo 
right  name.  I  always  understood  he  took  his  name  from 
being  found  on  a  Sloppy  night." 

"  He  seems  an  amiable  fellow." 

"  Bless  you,  sir,  there's  not  a  bit  of  him,"  returned 
Betty,  "  that's  not  amiable.  So  you  may  judge  how 
amiable  he  is,  by  running  your  eye  along  his  heighth." 

Of  an  ungainly  make  was  Sloppy.  Too  much  of  him 
longwise,  too  little  of  him  broadwise,  and  too  many  sharp 
angles  of  him  angle-wise.  One  of  those  shambling  male 
human  creatures,  born  to  be  indiscreetly  candid  in  the 
revelation  of  buttons  ;  every  buttou  he  had  about  him 
glaring  at  the  public  to  a  quite  preternatural  extent.  A 
considerable  capital  of  kuce  and  elbow  and  wrist  and 


300  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

ankle  had  Sloppy,  and  he  didn't  know  how  to  dispose  of 
it  to  the  best  advantage,  but  was  always  investing  it  in 
wrong  securities,  and  so  getting  himself  into  embarrassed 
circumstances.  Full-Private  Number  One  in  the  Awk- 
ward Squad  of  the  rank  and  file  of  life  was  Sloppy,  and 
yet  had  his  glimmering  notions  of  standing  true  to  the 
Colors. 

"  And  now,"  said  Mrs.  Boffin,  "  concerning  Johnny." 

As  Johnny,  with  his  chin  tucked  in  and  his  lips  pout- 
ing, reclined  in  Betty's  lap,  concentrating  his  blue  eyes  on 
the  visitors  and  shading  them  from  observation  with  a 
dimpled  arm,  old  Betty  took  one  of  his  fresh  fat  hands 
in  her  withered  right,  and  fell  to  gently  beating  it  on  her 
withered  left.     • 

"  Yes,  ma'am.     Concerning  Johnny." 

"  If  you  trust  the  dear  child  to  me,"  said  Mrs.  Boffin, 
with  a  face  inviting  trust,  "  he  shall  have  the  best  of 
homes,  the  best  of  care,  the  best  of  education,  the  best  of 
friends.  Please  God  I  will  be  a  true  good  mother  to 
him  I" 

"  I  am  thankful  to  you,  ma'am,  and  the  dear  child 
would  be  thankful  if  he  was  old  enough  to  understand." 
Still  lightly  beating  the  little  hand  upon  her  own.  "  I 
wouldn't  stand  in  the  dear  child's  light,  not  if  I  had  all 
my  life  before  me  instead  of  a  very  little  of  it.  But  I 
hope  you  won't  take  it  ill  that  I  cleave  to  the  child  closer 
than  words  can  tell,  for  he's  the  last  living  thing  left  me." 

"  Take  it  ill,  my  dear  soul  ?  Is  it  likely  ?  And  you 
so  tender  of  him  as  to  bring  him  home  here  !" 

"  I  have  seen;"  said  Betty,  still  with  that  light  beat 
upon  her  hard  rough  hand,  "  so  many  of  them  on  my  lap. 
And  they  are  all  gone  but  this  one  !     I  am  ashamed  to 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  301 

seem  so  selfish,  but  I  don't  really  mean  it.  It'll  be  the 
making  of  his  fortune,  and  he'll  be  a  gentleman  when  I 
am  dead.  I — I — don't  know  what  comes  over  me.  I — 
try  against  it.  Don't  notice  me  !"  The  light  beat  stopped, 
the  resolute  mouth  gave  way,  and  the  fine  strong  old  face 
broke  up  into  weakness  and  tears. 

Now,  greatly  to  the  relief  of  the  visitors,  the  emotional 
Sloppy  no  sooner  beheld  his  patroness  in  this  condition, 
than,  throwing  back  his  head  and  throwing  open  his 
mouth,  he  lifted  up  his  voice  and  bellowed.  This  alarm- 
ing note  of  something  wrong  instantly  terrified  Toddles 
and  Poddies,  who  were  no  sooner  heard  to  roar  surpris- 
ingly, than  Johnny,  curving  himself  the  wrong  way  and 
striking  out  at  Mrs.  Boffin  with  a  pair  of  indifferent  shoes, 
became  a  prey  to  despair.  The  absurdity  of  the  situation 
put  its  pathos  to  the  rout.  Mrs.  Betty  Higden  was  her- 
self in  a  moment,  and  brought  them  all  to  order  with  that 
speed,  that  Sloppy,  stopping  short  in  a  polysyllabic  bel- 
low, transferred  his  energy  to  the  mangle,  and  had  taken 
several  penitential  turns  before  he  could  be  stopped. 

"  There,  there,  there  !"  said  Mrs.  Boffin,  almost  regard- 
ing her  kind  self  as  the  most  ruthless  of  women.  "  No- 
thing is  going  to  be  done.  Nobody  need  be  frightened. 
We're  all  comfortable  ;  ain't  we,  Mrs.  Higden  ?" 

"  Sure  and  certain  we  are,"  returned  Betty. 

"  And  there  really  is  no  hurry,  you  know,"  said  Mrs. 
Boffin,  in  a  lower  voice.  "  Take  time  to  think  of  it,  my 
good  creature  1" 

"  Don't  you  fear  me  no  more,  ma'am,"  said  Betty.  "  I 
thought  of  it  for  good  yesterday.  I  don't  know  what 
come  over  me  just  now,  but  it'll  never  come  again." 


dUtf  OUR   MUTUAL    FRIEND. 

"  Well,  then  ;  Johnny  shall  have  more  time  to  think 
of  it,"  returned  Mrs.  Boffin  ;  "  the  pretty  child  shall  have 
time  to  get  used  to  it.  And  you'll  get  him  more  used  to 
it,  if  you  think  well  of  it ;   won't  you  ?" 

Betty  undertook  that,  cheerfully  and  readily. 

"  Lor,"  cried  Mrs.  Boffin,  looking  radiantly  about  her, 
"  we  want  to  make  every  body  happy,  not  dismal ! — 
And  perhaps  you  wouldn't  mind  letting  me  know  how 
used  to  it  you  begin  to  get,  and  how  it  all  goes  on  ?" 

"  I'll  send  Sloppy,"  said  Mrs.  Higdeu. 

"  And  this  gentleman  who  has  come  with  me  will  pay 
him  for  his  trouble,"  said  Mrs.  Boffin.  "  And  Mr.  Sloppy, 
whenever  you  come  to  my  house,  be  sure  you  never  go 
away  without  having  had  a  good  dinner  of  meat,  beer, 
vegetables,  and  pudding." 

This  still  further  brightened  the  face  of  affairs  ;  for,  the 
highly  sympathetic  Sloppy,  first  broadly  staring  and 
grinning,  and  then  roaring  with  laughter,  Toddles  and 
Poddies  followed  suit,  and  Johnny  trumped  the  trick.  T 
and  P  considering  these  favorable  circumstances  for  the 
resumption  of  that  dramatic  descent  upon  Johnny,  again 
came  across-country  hand  in  hand  upon  a  buccaneering 
expedition  ;  and  this  having  been  fought  out  in  the  chim- 
ney-corner behind  Mrs.  Higden's  chair,  with  great  valor 
on  both  sides,  those  desperate  pirates  returned  hand  in 
hand  to  their  stools,  across  the  dry  bed  of  a  mountain 
torrent. 

"  You  must  tell  me  what  I  can  do  for  you,  Betty  my 
friend,"  said  Mrs.  Boffin,  confidentially,  "  if  not  to-day, 
next  time." 

11  Thank  you  all  the  same,  ma'am,  but  I  want  nothing 


OUR   MUTUAL  FETENT).  303 

for  myself.  I  can  work.  I'm  strong.  I  can  walk 
twenty  mile  if  I'm  put  to  it."  Old  Betty  was  proud,  and 
said  it  with  a  sparkle  in  her  bright  eyes. 

"  Yes,  but  there  are  some  little  comforts  that  you 
wouldn't  be  the  worse  for,"  returned  Mrs.  Boffin.  M  Bless 
ye,  I  wasn't  born  a  lady  any  more  than  you." 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  said  Betty,  smiling,  "  that  you  were 
a  born  lady,  and  a  true  one,  or  there  never  was  a  lady 
born.  Bat  I  couldn't  take  any  thing  from  you,  my  dear. 
I  never  did  take  any  thing  from  any  one.  It  ain't  that 
I'm  not  grateful,  but  I  love  to  earn  it  better." 

"  Well,  well !"  returned  Mrs.  Boffin.  "  I  only  spoke 
of  little  things,  or  I  wouldn't  have  taken  the  liberty." 

Betty  put  her  visitor's  hand  to  her  lips,  in  acknow- 
ledgment of  the  delicate  answer.  Wonderfully  upright 
her  figure  was,  and  wonderfully  self-reliant  her  look, 
as,  standing  facing  her  visitor,  she  explained  herself 
further. 

**  If  I  could  have  kept  the  dear  child,  without  the 
dread  that's  always  upon  me  of  his  coming  to  that  fate 
I  have  spoken  of,  I  could  never  have  parted  with  him, 
even  to  you.  For  I  love  him,  I  love  him,  I  love  him  ! 
I  love  my  husband  long  dead  and  gone,  in  him  ;  I  love 
my  children  dead  and  gone,  in  him  ;  I  love  my  young 
and  hopeful  days  dead  and  gone,  in  him.  I  couldn't  sell 
that  love,  and  look  you  in  your  bright  kind  face.  It's  a 
free  gift.  I'm  in  want  of  nothing.  When  my  strength 
fails  me,  if  I  can  but  die  out  quick  and  quiet,  I  shall  be 
quite  content.  I  have  stood  between  my  dead  and  that 
shame  I  have  spoken  of,  and  it  has  been  kept  off  from 
every  one  of  them.  Sewed  into  my  gown,"  with  her 
hand  upon  her  breast,  "  is  just  enough  to  lay  me  in  the 

15 


304  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

grave.  Only  see  that  it's  rightly  spent,  so  as  I  may  rest 
free  to  the  last  from  that  crnelty  and  disgrace,  and  you'll 
have  done  much  more  than  a  little  thing  for  me,  and  all 
that  in  this  present  world  my  heart  is  set  upon." 

Mrs.  Betty  Higden's  visitor  pressed  her  hand.  There 
was  no  more  breaking  up  of  the  strong  old  face  into 
weakness.  My  Lords  and  Gentlemen  and  Honorable 
Boards,  it  really  was  as  composed  as  our  own  faces,  and 
almost  as  dignified. 

And  now,  Johnny  was  to  be  inveigled  into  occupying 
a  temporary  position  on  Mrs.  Boffin's  lap.  It  was  not 
until  he  had  been  piqued  into  competition  with  the  two 
diminutive  Minders,  by  seeing  them  successively  raised  to 
that  post  and  retire  from  it  without  injury,  that  he  could 
be  by  any  means  induced  to  leave  Mrs.  Betty  Higden's 
skirts  ;  toward  which  he  exhibited,  even  when  in  Mrs. 
Boffin's  embrace,  strong  yearnings,  spiritual  and  bodily  ; 
the  former  expressed  in  a  very  gloomy  visage,  the  latter 
in  extended  arms.  However,  a  general  description  of  the 
toy-wonders  lurking  in  Mrs.  Boffin's  house,  so  far  concili- 
ated this  worldly-minded  orphan  as  to  induce  him  to  stare 
at  her  frowningly,  with  a  fist  in  his  month,  and  even  at 
length  to  chuckle  when  a  richly-caparisoned  horse  on 
wheels,  with  a  miraculous  gift  of  cantering  to  cake-shops, 
was  mentioned.  This  sound  being  taken  up  by  the  Min- 
ders, swelled  into  a  rapturous  trio  which  gave  general 
satisfaction. 

So  the  interview  was  considered  very  successful,  and 
Mrs.  Boffin  was  pleased,  and  all  were  satisfied.  Not  least 
of  all,  Sloppy,  who  undertook  to  conduct  the  visitors  back 
by  the  best  way  to  the  Three  Magpies,  and  whom  the 
hammer-headed  young  man  much  despised. 


OUR   MUTUAL  FRIEND.  305 

This  piece  of  business  thus  put  in  train,  the  Secretary 
drove  Mrs.  Boffin  back  to  the  Bower,  and  found  employ- 
ment for  himself  at  the  new  house  until  evening.  Whether, 
when  evening  came,  he  took  a  way  to  his  lodgings  that 
led  through  fields,  with  any  design  of  finding  Miss  Bella 
Wilfer  in  those  fields,  is  not  so  certain  as  that  she  regu- 
larly walked  there  at  that  hour. 

And,  moreover,  it  is  certain  that  there  she  was. 

No  longer  in  mourning,  Miss  Bella  was  dressed  in  as 
pretty  colors  as  she  could  muster.  There  is  no  denying 
that  she  was  as  pretty  as  they,  and  that  she  and  the 
colors  went  very  prettily  together.  She  was  reading  as 
she  walked,  and  of  course  it  is  to  be  inferred,  from  her 
showing  no  knowledge. of  Mr.  Rokesmith's  approach,  that 
she  did  not  know  he  was  approaching. 

"  Eh  ?"  said  Miss  Bella,  raising  her  eyes  from  her 
book,  when  he  stopped  before  her.     "  Oh  !     It's  you." 

"  Only  I.     A  fine  evening  !" 

"  Is  it  ?"  said  Bella,  looking  coldly  round.  "  I  sup- 
pose it  is,  now  you  mention  it.  I  have  not  been  thinking 
of  the  evening." 

"  So  intent  upon  your  book  ?" 

"  Ye-e-es,"  replied  Bella,  with  a  drawl  of  indifference. 

"  A  love-story,  Miss  Wilfer  ?" 

11  Oh  dear  no,  or  I  shouldn't  be  reading  it.  It's  more 
about  money  than  any  thing  else." 

"  And  does  it  say  that  money  is  better  than  any  thing  ?" 

"  Upon  my  word,"  returned  Bella,  "  I  forget  what  it 
says,  but  you  can  find  out  for  yourself,  if  you  like,  Mr. 
Rokesmith.     I  don't  wan't  it  any  more." 

The  Secretary  took  the  book— she  had  fluttered  the 
leaves  as  if  it  were  a  fan — and  walked  beside  her. 


306  OUR   MUTUAL  FRIEND. 

"  I  am  charged  with  a  message  for  you,  Miss  "Wilfer." 

"  Impossible,  I  think  I"  said  Bella,  with  another  drawl. 

"  From  Mrs.  Boffin.  She  desired  me  to  assure  you  of 
the  pleasure  she  has  in  finding  that  she  will  be  ready  to 
receive  you  in  another  week  or  two  at  furthest." 

Bella  turned  her  head  toward  him,  with  her  pretty- 
insolent  eyebrows  raised,  and  her  eyelids  drooping.  As 
much  as  to  say,  "  How  did  you  come  by  the  message, 
pray  ?" 

"  I  have  been  waiting  for  an  opportunity  of  telling  you 
that  I  am  Mr.  Boffin's  Secretary." 

"  I  am  as  wise  as  ever,"  said  Miss  Bella,  loftily,  "  for  I 
don't  know  what  a  Secretary  is.     Not  that  it  signifies." 

"  Not  at  all." 

A  covert  glance  at  her  face,  as  he  walked  beside  her, 
showed  him  that  she  had  not  expected  his  ready  assent  to 
that  proposition. 

"  Then  are  you  going  to  be  always  there,  Mr.  Roke- 
smith  ?"  she  inquired,  as  if  that  would  be  a  drawback. 

"  Always  ?     No.     Very  much  there  ?     Yes." 

"  Dear  me  1"  drawled  Bella,  in  a  tone  of  mortifica- 
tion. 

"  But  my  position  there  as  Secretary  will  be  very  dif- 
ferent from  yours  as  guest.  You  will  know  little  or  noth- 
ing about  me.  I  shall  transact  the  business  :  you  will 
transact  the  pleasure.  I  shall  have  my  salary  to  earn  ; 
you  will  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  enjoy  and  attract." 

"  Attract,  Sir  ?"  said  Bella,  again  with  her  eyebrows 
raised,  and  her  eyelids  drooping.  "  I  don't  understand 
you."  •  ^ 

Without  replying  on  this  point,  Mr.  Kokesmith  went 
on. 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND.  307 

"  Excuse  me  ;  when  I  first  saw  you  in  your  black 
dress — " 

("There!"  was  Miss  Bella's  mental  exclamation. 
"  What  did  I  say  to  them  at  home  ?  Every  body  noticed 
that  ridiculous  mourning.") 

"  When  I  first  saw  you  in  your  black  dress,  I  was  at  o, 
loss  to  account  for  that  distinction  between  yourself  and 
your  family.  I  hope  it  was  not  impertinent  to  speculate 
upon  it  V 

11  I  hope  not,  I  am  sure,"  said  Miss  Bella,  haughtily. 
"  But  you  ought  to  know  best  how  you  speculated  upon 
it." 

Mr.  Rokesmith  inclined  his  head  in  a  deprecatory  man- 
ner, and  went  on. 

"  Since  I  have  beeu  intrusted  with  Mr.  Boffin's  affairs, 
I  have  necessarily  come  to  understand  the  little  mystery. 
I  venture  to  remark  that  I  feel  persuaded  that  much  of 
your  loss  may  be  repaired.  I  speak,  of  course,  merely  of 
wealth,  Miss  Wilfer.  The  loss  of  a  perfect  stranger,  whose 
worth,  or  worthlessn€ss,  I.  can  not  estimate — nor  you 
either — is  beside  the  question.  But  this  excellent  gentle- 
man and  lady  are  so  full  of  simplicity,  so  full  of  generosity, 
so  inclined  toward  you,  and  so  desirous  to — how  shall  I 
express  it  ? — to  make  amends  for  their  good  fortune,  that 
you  have  only  to  respond." 

As  he  watched  her  with  another  covert  look,  he  saw  a 
certain  ambitious  triumph  in  her  face  which  no  assumed 
coldness  could  conceal. 

"  As  we  have  been  brought  under  one  roof  by  an  acci- 
dental combination  of  circumstances,  which  oddly  extends 
itself  to  the  new  relations  before  us,  1  have  taken  the 
liberty  of  saying  these  few  words.     You  don't  consider 


308  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

them  intrusive  I  hope  ?"  said  the  Secretary  with  defe- 
rence. 

"  Really,  Mr.  Rokesmith,  I  can't  say  what  I  consider 
them,"  returned  the  young  lady.  "  They  are  perfectly 
new  to  me,  and  may  be  founded  altogether  on  your  own 
imagination." 

"  You  will  see." 

These  same  fields  were  opposite  the  Wilfer  premises. 
The  discreet  Mrs.  Wilfer  now  looking  out  of  window  and 
beholding  her  daughter  in  conference  with  her  lodger, 
instantly  tied  up  her  head  and  came  out  for  a  casual 
walk. 

"  I  have  been  telling  Miss  Wilfer,"  said  John  Rokesmith, 
as  the  majestic  lady  came  stalking  up,  "  that  I  have  be- 
come, by  a  curious  chance,  Mr.  Boffin's  Secretary  or  man 
of  business." 

"  I  have  not,"  returned  Mrs.  Wilfer,  waving  her  gloves 
in  her  chronic  state  of  dignity,  and  vague  ill-usage,  "  the 
honor  of  any  intimate  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Boffin,  and 
it  is  not  for  me  to  congratulate  thaff  gentleman  on  the  ac- 
quisition he  has  made." 

u  A  poor  one  enough,"  said  Rokesmith. 

"  Pardon  me,"  returned  Mrs.  Wilfer,  "  the  merits  of 
Mr.  Boffin  may  be  highly  distinguished — may  be  more 
distinguished  than  the  couutenauce  of  Mrs.  Boffiu  would 
imply — but  it  were  the  insanity  of  humility  to  deem  him 
worthy  of  a  better  assistant." 

"  You  are  very  good.  I  have  also  been  telling  Miss 
Wilfer  that  she  is  expected  very  shortly  at  the  new  resi- 
dence in  town." 

"  Having  tacitly  consented,"  said  Mrs.  Wilfer,  with  a 
grand  shrug  of  her  shoulders,  and  another  wave  of  her 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  300 

gloves,  "  to  my  child's  acceptance  of  the  proffered  atten- 
tions of  Mrs.  Boffin,  I  interpose  no  objection." 

Here  Miss  Bella  offered  the  remonstrance  :  "  Don't 
talk  nonsense,  ma,  please." 

"  Peace  !"  said  Mrs.  Wilfer. 

"  No,  ma,  I  am  not  going  to  be  made  so  absurd.  In- 
terposing objections  !" 

11 1  say,"  repeated  Mrs.  Wilfer,  with  a  vast  access  of 
grandeur,  "  that  I  am  not  going  to  interpose  objections. 
If  Mrs.  Boffin  (to  whose  countenance  no  disciple  of  Lava- 
ter  could  possibly  for  a  single  moment  subscribe),"  with  a 
shiver,  "  seeks  to  illuminate  her  new  residence  in  town 
with  the  attractions  of  a  child  of  mine,  I  am  content  that 
she  should  be  favored  by  the  company  of  a  child  of  mine.'' 

"  You  use  the  word,  ma'am,  I  have  myself  used,"  said 
Rokesmith,  with  a  glance  at  Bella,  "  when  you  speak  of 
Miss  Wilfer's  attractions  there." 

"  Pardon  me,"  returned  Mrs.  Wilfer,  with  dreadful 
solemnity,  "  but  I  had  not  finished." 

"  Pi  ay  excuse  me." 

11 1  was  about  to  say,"  pursued  Mrs.  Wilfer,  who  clearly 
had  not  had  the  faintest  idea  of  saying  anything  more  : 
"  that  when  I  use  the  term  attractions,  I  do  so  with  the 
qualification  that  I  do  not  mean  it  in  any  way  whatever." 

The  excellent  lady  delivered  this  luminous  elucidation 
of  her  views  with  an  air  of  greatly  obliging  her  hearers 
and  greatly  distinguishing  herself.  Whereat  Miss  Bella 
laughed  a  scornful  little  laugh  and  said  : 

"  Quite  enough  about  this,  I  am  sure,  on  all  sides. 
Have  the  goodness,  Mr.  Rokesmith,  to  give  my  love  to 
Mrs.  Boffin  " 

"  Pardon  me  !"  cried  Mrs.  Wilfer.     "  Compliments." 


310  OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 

"  Love  !"  repeated  Bella,  with  a  little  stamp  of  her 
foot. 

"  No  !"  said  Mrs.  Wilfer,  monotonously.  "  Compli- 
ments." 

("  Say  Miss  Wilfer's  love,  and  Mrs.  Wilfer's  compli- 
ments," the  Secretary  proposed,  as  a  compromise.) 

"  And  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  come  when  she  is  ready 
for  me.     The  sooner  the  better." 

"  One  last  word,  Bella,"  said  Mrs.  Wilfer,  "  before  de- 
scending to  the  family  apartment.  I  trust  that  as  a  child 
of  mine  you  will  ever  be  sensible  that  it  will  be  graceful 
in  you,  when  associating  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Boffin  upon 
equal  terms,  to  remember  that  the  Secretary,  Mr.  Roke- 
smith,  as  your  -father's  lodger,  has  a  claim  on  your  good 
word." 

The  condescension  with  which  Mrs.  Wilfer  delivered 
this  proclamation  of  patronage  was  as  wonderful  as  the 
swiftness  with  which  the  lodger  had  lost  caste  in  the 
Secretary.  He  smiled  as  the  mother  retired  down  stairs  ; 
but  his  face  fell  as  the  daughter  followed. 

"  So  insolent,  so  trivial,  so  capricious,  so  mercenary, 
so  careless,  so  hard  to  touch,  so  hard  to  turn  !"  he  said, 
bitterly. 

And  added  as  he  went  up  stairs.  "  And  yet  so  pretty, 
so  pretty  !"■ 

And  added  presently,  as  he  walked  to  and  fro  in  his 
room.     w  And  if  she  knew  !" 

She  knew  that  he  was  shaking  the  house  by  his  walk- 
ing to  and  fro  ;  and  she  declared  it  another  of  the  mise- 
ries of  being  poor,  that  you  couldn't  get  rid  of  a  haunt- 
ing Secretary,  stump — stump — stumping  overhead  in  the 
dark  like  a  Ghost. 


OUR  MUTUAL   FRIEND.  311 


CHAPTER  XYII. 

A   DISMAL    SWAMP. 

And  now,  in  the  blooming  summer  days,  behold  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Boffin  established  in  the  eminently  aristocratic 
family  mansion,  and  behold  all  manner  of  crawling,  creep- 
ing, fluttering,  and  buzzing  creatures,  attracted  by  the 
gold  dust  of  the  Golden  Dustman  ! 

Foremost  among  those  leaving  cards  at  the  eminently 
aristocratic  door  before  it  is  quite  painted  are  the  Yeneer- 
ings  :  out  of  breath,  one  might  imagine,  from  the  im- 
petuosity of  their  rush  to  the  eminently  aristocratic  steps. 
One  copper-plate  Mrs.  Veneering,  two  copper-plate  Mr. 
Yeneerings,  and  a  connubial  copper-plate  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Yeneering,  requesting  the  honor  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Boffin's 
company  at  dinner  with  the  utmost  Analytical  solemni- 
ties. The  enchanting  Lady  Tippins  leaves  a  card.  Tweni- 
low  leaves  cards.  A  tall  custard-colored  phaeton  tooling 
up  in  a  solemn  manner  leaves  four  cards,  to  wit,  a  couple 
of  Mr.  Podsnaps,  a  Mrs.  Podsnap,  and  a  Miss  Podsnap. 
All  the  world  and  his  wife  and  daughter  leave  cards. 
Sometimes  the  world's  wife  has  so  many  daughters  that 
her  card  reads  like  a  Miscellaneous  Lot  at  an  Auction  ; 
comprising  Mrs.  Tapkins,  Miss  Tapkins,  Miss  Frederica 
Tapkins,  Miss  Antonina  Tapkins,  Miss  Malvina  Tapkins, 
and  Miss  Euphemia  Tapkins  ;  at  the  same  time,  the  same 
15* 


312  OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 

lady  leaves  the  card  of  Mrs.  Henry  George  Alfred 
Swoshle,  nee  Tapkins  :  also,  a  card,  Mrs.  Tapkins  at 
Home,  Wednesdays,  Music,  Portland  Place. 

Miss  Bella  Wilfer  becomes  an  inmate,  for  an  indefinite 
period,  of  the  eminently  aristocratic  dwelling.  Mrs.  Boffin 
bears  Miss  Bella  away  to  her  Milliner's  and  Dress-maker's, 
and  she  gets  beautifully  dressed.  The  Yeneerings  find 
with  swift  remorse  that  they  have  omitted  to  invite  Miss 
Bella  Wilfer.  One  Mrs.  Veneering  and  one  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Veneering  requesting  that  additional  honor,  instantly 
do  penance  in  white  cardboard  on  the  hall  table.  Mrs. 
Tapkins  likewise  discovers  her  omission,  and  with  promp- 
titude repairs  it ;  for  herself,  for  Miss  Tapkins,  for  Miss 
Frederica  Tapkins,  for  Miss  Antonina  Tapkins,  for  Miss 
Malvina  Tapkins,  and  for  Miss  Euphemia  Tapkins.  Like- 
wise, for  Mrs.  Henry  George  Alfred  Swoshle,  nee  Tap- 
kins, Likewise,  for  Mrs.  Tapkins  at  home,  Wednesdays, 
Music,  Portland  Place. 

Tradesmen's  books  hunger,  and  tradesmen's  mouths 
water,  for  the  gold  dust  of  the  Golden  Dustman.  As 
Mrs.  Boffin  and  Mis.s  Wilfer  drive  out,  or  as  Mr.  Boffin 
walks  out  at  his  jug-trot  pace,  the  fishmonger  pulls  off  his 
hat  with  an  air  of  reverence  founded  on  conviction.  His 
men  cleanse  their  fingers  on  their  woolen  aprons  before 
presuming  to  touch  their  foreheads  to  Mr.  Boffin  or  Lady. 
The  gaping  salmon  and  the  golden  mullet  lying  on  the 
slab  seem  to  turn  up  their  eyes  sidewise,  as  they  would 
turn  up  their  hands,  if  they  had  any,  in  worshiping  ad- 
miration. The  butcher,  though  a  portly  aud  a  prosperous 
man,  doesn't  know  what  to  do  with  himself,  so  anxious  is 
he  to  express  humility  when  discovered  by  the  passing 
Boffins  taking  the  air  in  a  mutton  grove.     Presents  are 


OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND.  313 

made  to  the  Boffin  servants,  and  bland  strangers  with 
business-cards  meeting  said  servants  in  the  street,  offer 
hypothetical  corruption.  As,  "  Supposing  I  was  to  be 
favored  with  an  order  from  Mr.  Boffin,  my  dear  friend, 
it  would  be  worth  my  while" — to  do  a  certain  thing  that 
I  hope  might  not  prove  wholly  disagreeable  to  your  feel- 
ings. 

But  no  one  knows  so  well  as  the  Secretary,  who  opens 
and  reads  the  letters,  what  a  set  is  made  at  the  man 
marked  by  a  stroke  of  notoriety.  Oh  the  varieties  of 
dust  for  ocular  use  offered  in  exchange  for  the  gold  dust 
of  the  Golden  Dustman  !  Fifty-seven  churches  to  be 
erected  with  half-crowns,  forty-two  parsonage  houses  to 
be  repaired  with  shillings,  seven-and-twenty  organs  to  be 
built  with  half-pence,  twelve  hundred  children  to  be 
brought  up  on  postage  stamps.  Not  that  a  half-crown, 
shilling,  half-penny,  or  postage  stamp  would  be  particu- 
larly acceptable  from  Mr.  Boffin,  but  that  it  is  so  obvious 
he  is  the  man  to  make  up  the  deficiency.  And  then  the 
charities,  my  Christian  brother  1  And  mostly  in  difficul- 
ties, yet  mostly  lavish,  too,  in  the  expensive  articles  of 
print  and  paper.  Large  fat  private  double  letter,  sealed 
with  ducal  coronet.  "  Nicodemus  Boffin,  Esquire.  My 
Dear  Sir, — Having  consented  to  preside  at  the  forthcom- 
ing Annual  Dinner  of  the  Family  Party  Fund,  and  feel- 
ing deeply  impressed  with  the  immense  usefulness  of  that 
noble  Institution  and  the  great  importance  of  its  being 
supported  by  a  List  of  Stewards  that  shall  prove  to  the 
public  the  interest  taken  in  it  by  popular  aud  distin- 
guished men,  I  have  undertaken  to  ask  you  to  become  a 
Steward  on  that  occasion.  Soliciting  your  favorable 
reply  before  the  14th  instant,  I  am,  My  Dear  Sir,  Your 


314:  OUR    MUTUAL    FRIEND. 

faithful  Servant,  Linseed.  P.S.  The  Steward's  fee  is 
limited  to  three  Guineas."  Friendly  this,  on  the  part  of 
the  Duke  of  Linseed  (and  thoughtful  in  the  postscript), 
only  lithographed  by  the  hundred  and  presenting  but  a 
pale  individuality  of  address  to  Nicodenius  Boffin,  Esquire, 
in  quite  another  hand.  It  takes  two  noble  Earls  and  a 
Yiscount,  combined,  to  inform  Nicodemus  Boffin,  Esquire, 
in  an  equally  flattering  manner,  that  an  estimable  lady  in 
the  West  of  England  has  offered  to  present  a  purse  con- 
taining twenty  pounds,  to  the  Society  for  Granting  An- 
nuities to  Unassuming  Members  of  the  Middle  Classes,  if 
twenty  individuals  will  previously  present  purses  of  one 
hundred  pounds  each.  And  those  benevolent  noblemen 
very  kindly  point  out  that  if  Nicodemus  Boffin,  Esquire, 
should  wish  to  present  two  or  more  purses,  it  will  not  be 
inconsistent  with  the  design  of  the  estimable  lady  in  the 
West  of  England,  provided  each  purse  be  coupled  with 
the  name  of  some  member  of  his  honored  and  respected 
family. 

These  are  the  corporate  beggars.  But  there  are, 
besides,  the  individual  beggars  ;  and  how  does  the  heart 
of  the  Secretary  fail  him  when  he  has  to  cope  with  them  ! 
And  they  must  be  coped  with  to  some  extent,  because 
they  all  inclose  documents  (they  call  their  scraps  docu- 
ments ;  but  they  are,  as  to  papers  deserving  the  name, 
what  minced  veal  is  to  a  calf),  the  non-return  of  which 
would  be  their  ruin.  That  is  to  say,  they  are  utterly 
ruined  now,  but  they  would  be  more  utterly  ruined  then. 
Among  these  correspondents  are  several  daughters  of 
general  officers,  long  accustomed  to  every  luxury  of  life 
(except  spelling),  who  little  thought,  when  their  gallant 
fathers  waged  war  in  the  Peninsula,   that  they  would 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND.  315 

ever  have  to  appeal  to  those  whom  Providence,  in  its 
inscrutable  wisdom",  has-  blessed  with  untold  gold,  and 
from  among  whom  they  select  the  name  of  Nicodemus 
Boffin,  Esquire,  for  a  maiden  effort  in  this  wise,  under- 
standing that  he'  has  such  a  heart  as  never  was.  The 
Secretary  learns,  too,  that  confidence  between  man  and 
wife  would  seem  to  obtain  but  rarely  when  virtue  is  in 
distress,  so  numerous  are  the  wives  who  take  up  their 
pens  to  ask  Mr.  Boffin  for  money  without  the  knowledge 
of  their  devoted  husbands,  who  would  never  permit  it  ; 
while,  on  the  other  hand,  so  numerous  are  the  husbands 
who  take  up  their  pens  to  ask  Mr.  Boffin  for  money  with- 
out the  knowledge  of  their  devoted  wives,  who  would  in- 
stantly go  out  of  their  senses  if  they  had  the  least  suspi- 
cion of  the  circumstance.  There  are  the  inspired  beggars, 
too.  These  were  sitting,  only  yesterday  evening,  musing 
over  a  fragment  of  candle  which  must  soon  go  out  and 
leave  them  in  the  dark  for  the  rest  of  their  nights,  when 
surely  some  Angel  whispered  the  name  of  Nicodemus 
Boffin,  Esquire,  to  their  souls,  imparting  rays  of  hope, 
nay  confidence,  to  which  they  had  long  been  strangers  ! 
Akin  to  these  are  the  suggestively-befriended  beggars. 
They  were  partaking  of  a  cold  potato  and  water  by  the 
flickering  and  gloomy  light  of  a  lucifer-match,  in  their 
lodgings  (rent  considerably  in  arrear,  and  heartless  land- 
lady threatening  expulsion  "like  a  dog"  into  the  streets), 
when  a  gifted  friend  happening  to  look  in,  said,  "  Write 
immediately  to  Nicodemus  Boffin,  Esquire,"  and  would 
>  take  no  denial.  There  are  the  nobly  independent  beg- 
gars, too.  These,  in  the  days  of  their  abundance,  ever 
regarded  gold  as  dross,  and  have  not  yet  got  over  that 
only  impediment  in  the  way  of  their  amassing  wealth,  but 


316     .  OUR  MUTUAL  FEIEND. 

they  want  no  dross  from  Nicodenius  Boffin,  Esquire  ;  No, 
Mr.  Boffin  ;  the  world  may  term  it  pride,  paltry  pride  if 
you  will,  but  they  wouldn't  take  it  if  you  offered  it ;  a 
loan,  Sir — for  fourteen  weeks  to  the  day,  interest  calcu- 
lated at  the  rate  of  five  per  cent,  per-  annum,  to  be  be- 
stowed upon  any  charitable  institution  you  may  name — is 
all  they  want  of  you,  and  if  you  have  the  meanness  to 
refuse  it,  count  on  being  despised  by  these  great  spirits. 
There  are  the  beggars  of  punctual  business-habits,  too. 
These  will  make  an  end  of  themselves  at  a  quarter  to  one 
p.m.  on  Tuesday,  if  no  Post-office  order  is  in  the  interim 
received  from  Nicodemus  Boffin,  Esq.  ;  arriving  after  a 
quarter  to  one  p.m.  on  Tuesday,  it  need  not  be  sent,  as 
they  will  then  (having  made  an  exact  memorandum  of 
the  heartless  circumstances)  be  "  cold  in  death."  There 
are  the  beggars  on  horseback,  too,  in  another  sense  from 
the  sense  of  the  proverb.  These  are  mounted  and  ready 
to  start  on  the  highway  to  affluence.  The  goal  is  before 
them,  the  road  is  in  the  best  condition,  their  spurs  are 
on,  the  steed  is  willing,  but,  at  the  last  moment,  for  want 
of  some  special  thing — a  clock,  a  violin,  an  astronomical 
telescope,  an  electrifying  machine — they  must  dismount 
for  ever,  unless  they  receive  its  equivalent  in  money  from 
Nicodemus  Boffin,  Esquire.  Less  given  to  detail  are  the 
beggars  who  make  sporting  ventures.  These,  usually  to 
be  addressed  in  reply  under  initials  at  a  country  post- 
office,  inquire  in  feminine  hands,  Dare  one  who  can  not 
disclose  herself  to  Nicodemus  Boffin,  Esquire,  but  whose 
name  might  startle  him  were  it  revealed,  solicit  the  imme- 
diate advance  of  two  hundred  pounds  from  unexpected 
riches  exercising  their  noblest  privilege  in  the  trust  of  a 
common  humanity  ? 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND.  317 

Iii  such  a  Dismal  Swamp  does  the  new  house  stand,  and 
through  it  does  the  Secretary  daily  struggle  breast-high. 
Not  to  mention  all  the  people  alive  who  have  made  inven- 
tions that  won't  act,  and  all  the  jobbers  who  job  in  all  the 
jobberies  jobbed  ;  though  these  may  be  regarded  as  the 
Alligators  of  the  Dismal  Swamp,  and  are  always  lying  by 
to  drag  the  Golden  Dustman  under. 

But  the  old  house.  There  are  no  designs  against  the 
Golden  Dustman  there  ?  There  arc  no  fish  of  the  shark 
tribe  in  the  Bower  waters  ?  Perhaps  not.  Still,  Wegg 
is  established  there,  and  would  seem,  judged  by  his  secret 
proceedings,  to  cherish  a  notion  of  making  a  discovery. 
For,  when  a  -  man  with  a  wooden  leg  lies  prone  on  his 
stomach  to  peep  under  bedsteads  ;  and  hops  up  ladders, 
like  some  extinct  bird,  to  survey  the  tops  of  presses  and 
cupboards  ;  and  provides  himself  an  iron  rod  which  he  is 
always  poking  and  prodding  into  dust-mouuds  ;  the  pro- 
bability is  that  he  expects  to  find  something. 


THE  END  OF  THE  FIRST  BOOK. 


